


You Gotta Go with the Flow

by quicksylver28



Series: You Gotta... [2]
Category: Hemlock Grove, Takers (2010), Teen Wolf (TV), The Glades (TV), 幽☆遊☆白書 | YuYu Hakusho: Ghost Files
Genre: Blood and Gore, Child Death, F/M, Gay Sex, M/M, Multi, Night Terrors, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Talia Hale is a real bitch, The Hales are Alive, Violence, villains are kinda fucked up, werewolves are still the worse kept secret in Beacon Hills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-06-09 10:40:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 47,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6902536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksylver28/pseuds/quicksylver28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So i finally got around to writing the next part of the series. I've drafted up a large chunk of the story thanks to Rough Trade NaNo and will be editing an posting those chapters every few days or so while I try to do the end of the story justice.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So i finally got around to writing the next part of the series. I've drafted up a large chunk of the story thanks to Rough Trade NaNo and will be editing an posting those chapters every few days or so while I try to do the end of the story justice.

There was blood on his bedroom wall.

Not a splatter or the swipe of a hand. Not finger marks that trailed into nothing or the stippling spots of a gunshot wound. There was a pool of blood on the wall of his bedroom, right between his Star Wars poster and his closet door. A smooth red surface that rippled lazily; wet, slick sounds coming from the surging edges. He tilted his head in confusion and his crimson reflection did the same, sitting on a bed that looked just like his. Reflecting a room that looked just like his, with its single bed and Power Rangers sheet set that he clutched tightly in his small hands.

He looked down at his white knuckled grip, lifting the comforter to stare at his kicking feet in the footy pyjamas. The Elmo ones that his mother bought for his sixth birthday just yesterday… no wait… almost twenty years ago right? No... No, It must have been yesterday. She'd kissed him and tucked him into bed just hours ago. Or did she? She ... she must have.

He looks up at the pool of blood once again. The boy in the reflection was crying now, fat tears running down his cheeks but he cannot hear a sound. He quickly reached his fingertips up to his own face and found his own cheeks dry. The boy in the blood started crying in earnest now, still unheard, twisting his head this way and that as if searching for something and he felt a suffocating fear creeping upon him, choking him as he tried to call out for someone, for his mom, his dad, for anyone. All he could do was watch as the boy in the blood pulled his cover over his head in terror, his small form trembling under the comforter.

With wobbly knees and trembling tip toe he eases out of bed, grounding himself on the softness of his bedroom rug. Dragging his stockinged feet across the room, closer and closer to the blood. He swallows back a cry, more afraid of making a sound than of being alone. All too soon he is at the blood, the pool's surface shiny and still as he stares at the other boy, still sitting, huddled under the comforter.

He's just shy of touching the blood when the boy in the blood rips the comforter from over his head and screams in wide eyed terror, one hand flung out towards him as if in silent warning. But it is too late. His fingertips brush the surface and it ripples furiously.

It is then that he hears the screaming.

And the rattle of the bones.

An obscene, skin crawling, nauseating, wet snick clack of bones snapping and breaking against the slap of flesh that grows louder with each breath until it drowns out the screaming. The smell of the blood filled his nostrils, cloying and choking him as he fought to breathe, much less cry out for help.

The blood ripples again as he stumbles back, falling unto his butt with a grunt as the blood surges to splash across the walls and along the ceiling. The boy in the blood scrambled across his bed, tucking himself into the corner as he screamed in terror, staring at some unseen horror.

The blood surged forward, splashing over the floors, sticky and hot against his legs. He kicked back with a whimper, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy screaming in the blood. His bedroom rug is soon soaked, as is the seat of his Elmo jammies. Within seconds the blood is up to his chest, surging every time he tries to get to his feet. He opened his mouth to scream and the blood gushed in, choking him, stealing his voice and the breath from his lungs.

What he can't spit out, he swallows involuntarily and it roils in his tummy. The sound of the clacking bones is almost deafening as he tries to keep his head above the tide, his foot slipping against the sodden carpet.

The boy in the blood's screaming has stopped with a jerk, and with it the rattling of the bones. There's only a sick gurgling sound that fills him with dread. With a final push he pushes up and catches one last glimpse of the other boy before the blood takes him under.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stiles jerked awake with a scream stuck in his throat and the cloying taste of blood on his tongue. His skin felt hot, tight against his straining, spasming muscles. Heart pounding in his chest, lungs struggling for much needed air as arms clutched at him, like bands of iron, scalding to the touch. Closing around him as he struggled and fought against them.

A low growling thrummed above his head. Derek, his mind supplied. Mate. Safe. All of the fight drained out of him as he slumped into strong arms, pressing his face into the other man's neck.

"It's all right now. You're awake. You're safe."

Derek's concerned voice is growling low and rough from sleep and it sends a shudder through Stiles. The comfort in knowing that this man was his mate, his lover and a beta of his pack (Hales be damned) made him clutch closer to Derek's warm skin and bury his face in the man's neck, taking a deep breath as the last cobwebs of his nightmare fall away, already forgotten. Derek chuckles as Stiles wraps his leg around a thick thigh, slotting his body even closer with a moan.

"Not that I don't love snuggle time babe, " Derek presses a kiss to Stiles's shoulder, "… but we have to get up now."

"Don't wanna..." Stiles pouted against the warm, salty flesh that he sticks out his tongue to taste. "M' th' Alpha n Y' can't make me."

Derek braced and hand on Stile's back and rolled them over, smiling as Stiles wiggled salaciously against his thigh. Dipping his head, he claimed the younger man's mouth, morning breath and all, licking into that hot wet cavern like a man on a mission. Stiles groaned and thrust his hips forward, seeking that wonderful friction only to give a soft cry when Derek reluctantly pulled away.

"No no come back… do that again." he panted, pressing open mouthed kisses to the werewolf's stubbled cheek and the corners of his lips; running his fingers through that soft, dark hair and along his neck. He marveled a little that he was able to do this with the wolf, after so many years of believing this simple gesture lost to him and his heart skipped a beat.

At Derek's concerned look at his chest he grinned and thrust his hips forward again, making them both groan.

"Oh won't you stay with me…."Stiles warbled softly, barely carrying a note as he tried and failed to give Derek a smoldering 'come hither' look, sighing as the werewolf above him cackled and rolled over unto his back.

"Hey" Stiles propped himself up on his elbows and glared at the chuckling man. He flopped back on the bed with an oof. "Dick" he murmured under his breath.

With a roll of his kaleidescope eyes, Derek rolled out of bed, his sleep pants hanging low enough on his hips to disrupt Stiles train of thought completely.

"Even though the thought of spending the day in bed with you is enough to tempt a saint…" Derek grinned, leaning over to press a quick kiss to Stiles mouth, "… we have a lot to do today."

Stiles curled his lip in distaste. "What's so important that we can't put it aside for a little bit of hoingo boingo?"

"Hoingo Boingo Babe… Really?" Derek's eyebrows did that furrowing thing that Stiles found hilarious. "… You forget. Today's a big day… for both of us."

And just like that, the cold splash of reality hits Stiles.

Today was the day his dad was coming home from the hospital.

Today was also Derek's first day back at the Sheriff's office since his wolfsbane poisoning.

Today the Red hills Alpha was setting foot on Hale Territory to collect the Cubs recovered from Connie Bright.

Today was the day Stiles stepped out of the cocoon he'd been using his childhood home as and get back into the world where the Hales were flying back into town, his grandmothers' coven was meeting to discuss his severed soul bond and he had to figure out how to deal with the Laura Hale assault case, the creepy Argents and the mystery of just what the fuck Connie and Eugene Bright had been up to in the first place and the affect it had on the Red Hills cubs.

Not to mention not ripping out Alan Deaton's spleen as soon as he set eyes on the man.

With a sigh Stiles let his head thump back unto the bed, draping an arm over his eyes.

He felt exhausted already.

"Fuck"


	2. Chapter 2

After grabbing a quick breakfast of toast snatched from Coz's plate, bacon filched from Clem's, a spoonful or two of Jim's scrambled eggs, his very own cup of coffee, strong enough to strip paint, and a couple gulps of Derek's coffee-flavoured, sugar and milk crammed, diabetes in a cup (damn werewolf metabolism) they were geared up and out the door.

Kissing Derek farewell in front of his cruiser while the old busybody next door scowls through her curtains is as satisfying as he ever imagined it would be and Stiles can't stop grinning as Derek adjusts his khakis and climbs into the car. Seeing the sheriff's car in his driveway like this takes him back to his younger days when his dad would pick him up from school after his shift as deputy and, if Stiles asked nicely enough, Janek would sound the sirens as they drove the back roads of the forest.

A hand on his arm brings him out of his wool gathering and he smiles warmly at the serene face of Clementine Chausser as she slips on a pair of shades with that Monalisa smile and pats his shoulder, at the same time grabbing the keys to the rental car out of his hands before he can even protest. Gordon 'Coz' Cozier and Jim Longworth shouldered passed him, Jim subtly scenting his alpha before slinging his go-bag over his shoulder with an easy grin.

"Coming Boss?"

A rush of affection surges through Stiles as he watches his team mates bicker for the shotgun seat, even though he knows he will mock scowl and pull rank, sending them both into the back seat. Clem had all but taken over arrangements with the Red Hills Alpha, dealing with Deacon and negotiating with Laura Hale on the team's behalf.

Coz had seen to arrangements for getting Janek home, talking with Melissa and hiring a part time nurse/ physiotherapist for his dad's convalescence. Jim had dealt with the official duties as Stiles' second, getting them all approved leave and liaising with their analyst TK back at Fish and Wildlife HQ.

They'd all pulled together, his team, his pack; dealing with the world when he couldn't. Protecting him when he was down, when all he wanted to do was snuggle into his soul mate's arms and never leave.

And he loved them all so goddamned much for it.

******************************

"I hope that box has a cake in it. " Janek scowled and crossed his arms. "... and I hope that cake has a file in it."

Setting the pink bakery box at the nurses desk, Stiles grins at the older man, already dressed and ensconced in a wheelchair being pushed by an exasperated Melissa.

"Oh shut it Jan…" she roll her eyes, "… it takes a while to get discharged. There's no conspiracy to keep you here. Stop complaining and STOP trying to bribe the candy stripers to help you make a break for it. That last one almost got you into a cab before security stopped you. He started crying so hard the head nurse had to let him go home for the rest of the day."

Janek slumped in the chair, grumbling. "Geez, how was I to know he was so excitable? Aren't nurses supposed to be made of sterner stuff?"

He yelped as Melissa gently slapped the back of his head. "Hey… I'm walking wounded here. Take it easy will ya?"

"The Baby Nurses haven't been through the trenches like us veterans have." the woman snarked, flipping the chair's brake with her foot in front of Stiles. "Here you go boy, he's yours to deal with now."

Stiles has to choke back laughter at Janek's whispered "Harsh", flipping the pink box open with a flourish, presenting it to the gathering nurses.

"It's not cake." he grinned as their eyes widened.

One of the nurses stepped forward, licking her lips.

"Are those the gourmet cream puffs from that fancy Bakery near the park?"

Stiles nodded as another takes a deep breath at the heavenly smell.

"With the chocolate buttercream filling with raspberry compote and dark chocolate ganache drizzle?"

"Yup" he pops the 'p' as he puts the box down on the nurses' station and backs away quickly.

"You're a good man Stiles…" Melissa moans around a mouthful of cream and raspberry heaven, "Janek… take notes."

Stiles pats his dad on the shoulder as he sputters indignantly.

"I just wanted to thank you… all of you … for taking care of my dad for me." he feels his eyes start to sting and blinks rapidly as his smile wavers.

Melissa's eyes soften. "Anytime Stiles."

Janek clears his throat, blinking away his own watery eyes. "What?… I don't even get a puff. I'm the one who got shot. "

"Please old man" Stiles chuckles, shaking his head. "...like I'll ever let you eat processed sugar again. You're going to live forever if I have to wrap you up in a bubble and force feed you wheat grass juice and quinoa for the rest of time. And you can say goodbye to burgers and beer."

Janek's arguments for how unreasonable Stiles is being continue through the rest of the discharge and all the way to the car. Having dropped off Clem and Jim at Deaton's, Coz had returned with the rental and helped Janek from the wheelchair, nodding good naturedly as the older man complained.

Soon enough they were back at the house where they met with the new home care nurse and got Janek settled into his study, which they had turned into a bedroom for him.

Despite being mostly healed from his wounds, the older Stilinski still grew tired easily and he was dozing off by the time everything was settled. He smiled sleepily at Stiles as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Gonna tuck me in son?"

"Yeah" Stiles fussed with the blankets, his face serious as he stared at his father's pale skin. All the colour his dad had shown earlier seemed leeched away, shoving the cold truth in Stiles face.

That his father was vulnerable, that he was fragile in the ways humans were fragile and no matter what Stiles did, one day his father would pass away and leave him shattered the way his mother's death left him shattered.

"Hey" Janek's grip was clammy but strong, "I'm gonna be ok"

Stiles blinked and shrugged. "You always know what I'm thinking don't you."

"I could always read you like a book." Fingers reach up and brush away a stray tear from Stiles cheek. "All I have to do is look into your eyes. You have the universe in your eyes. Your mom…. Your mother was the same way."

Janek grasped Stiles hand, taking a deep breath. Talking about his lost soul mate was always difficult.

"I told her I could see the universe in her eyes and heaven in her smile." They were both crying now.

"… and you know what she said?" Janek shifted until Stiles was tucked into his side like he would when he was young. He buried his nose in his son's hair with a sad smile. "… She said that I ate so much that she could see a black hole where my stomach was."

Stiles snorted. "Geez Mom."

"Yeah… she was sassy like that." Janek whispered, voice breaking. "God I miss that woman."

"Me too Tata." Stiles sniffed, turning his face into his father's shoulder. "Me too."

 

**************************************

Leaving his sleeping father with the nurse, Sheila, a curvy, dark skinned woman with deep laugh lines and a hard worker's hands; they set out to the reserve after a call from Jim. The Red Hills Alpha and company had arrived.

"Brian" Stiles greeted the Alpha wolf he'd worked with during the Alpha Pack hunt. "How are you?"

The other man smiled. "As well as I can be considering…" he nods over to where the Red Hills Alpha stood.

No longer the scared and grieving, ash blonde teen he'd seen her as last, the newly made Alpha stood tall among a small contingent of other wolves. Dressed in dark natural fibres, her hair shorn into a pixie cut, she looked strong but not hard. Confident but not arrogant. She looks over and catches his eye and her gaze blazes red.

Within moments she is striding over to stand before him.

"Alpha" he greets her and she tilts her head at him, gazing at him for a few uncomfortable moments.

Then she nods. "Alpha" she greets him in return.

Brian starts, staring at her in shock. "Lizbeth…" she raises her hand and he falls silent.

"He may not be a wolf… but he is the Alpha of his pack. You've worked with him for week Bri, surely you could see it. I saw it the moment you told me that if my brothers were out there… that you'd find them and return them to me. And you did. You are a Promise Keeper and you have given me what I thought lost to me forever… my family. For that… I see you as my equal Alpha Stiles. And in the future I hope to know you as an ally." She gives him a small yet warm smile. "The Clan of Red Hills owes you so much."

She offers a hand and Stiles takes it, grasping her arm near the elbow as she grasps him.

He nods "We would be very pleased to have the Clan of Red Hills stand at flank with Pack Stilinski."

The winds shifts and the wolves titter among themselves. Brian looks surprised and oddly thoughtful while Lisbeth nods and gives a small smile. Stiles glances back at Coz and catches a look of approval on his face.

"Thank you Promise Keeper." she says, grinning at his surprised look. "Don't worry, this will just be our pack name for you. I'm sure it won't be as wide spread as Little Red." she teased.

"I had that dumb hoodie for ONE DAY" Stiles whined as she let out a chuckle. "Will that infernal red menace follow me everywhere?"

"All the way to Grandma's house I suppose." a smarmy voice comes from the forest.

"My, what a big mouth you have Peter." Stiles rolls his eyes, saying flatly. "… is it so you can talk us to death?"

Peter Hale steps out of the trees with a smirk. "I'm sure there are other things we could find to do with this mouth of mine Agent Stilinski."

Coz coughed "lame" into a fist and the other werewolves chuckled under their breath. Peter pursed his lips, throwing the man a look out of the corner of his eye. Coz raised a cool eyebrow in response.

"All playfulness aside" Peter brushes off the slight with equanimity, stepping closer to three Alphas. "Alpha Hale and Emissary Deaton approach with the cubs and your agents. Just thought you should know."

"And you were sent to play the part of Herald, Beta Hale?" Brian asked, frowning. "… or to play the Jester?"

Peter's lip curls and his eyes flash blue before he visually calms. Giving the slightest bow of his head to the visiting Alpha, his voice is cool and without inflection. "For good of all, there should be prior warning before Alpha Hale, Emissary Deaton and Agent…I mean Alpha Stilinski are put in such close quarters. May I remind all that this is still Hale Territory and it is by Alpha Hale's whim that this meeting was even allowed."

Brian steps forward with a snarl, "You would seek to disrespect me Beta…"

An clawed hand grips his shoulder, stilling him before Stiles can seek to intervene. Lizbeth's fangs drop as she growls. "I don't care if he drops trou and moons you right here Brian… you threaten this meeting in anyway and prevent me from getting my brothers back, I swear I will rip you from stem to stern. Is that understood?"

Brian looks at where her claws have dug into his flesh, droplets of blood staining his shirt. He nods slowly, stepping back and everyone breathes easier. As one all the wolves tilt their heads, looking off into the distance.

"They're here."

**********************************

The meeting is long and filled with werewolf diplomacy, medical explanations and finally the soft weeping of a sister hugging her little brothers as the wolves around them rumble softly in comfort. The cubs are still a bit hazy but they've woken and seem to be recovering well. Clem and Jim join Coz at Stiles's six and present a united front.

And for that he is incredibly grateful because it's all he can to keep himself from jumping on Alan Deaton and ripping his heart from his chest with his bare hands. Feeling ribs break and blood splatter hot across his face as he crushes the man's life right out of him.

Affirmations run through his head like a record on repeat.

I am cool, calm and collected. Every breath I inhale calms me and every breath I exhale takes away tension. I transcend stress of any kind. I live in peace.

"I live in peace" he murmurs as he sees Laura Hale and the fucking bond cutter walking… no stomping his way.

"Where's Derek?" she demands, red faced in anger. "… what have you done with him?"

Stiles raises an eyebrow. "I don't see how I could have 'done something' with the town sheriff Alpha Hale. Have you tried his office? I heard there's a new invention called the telephone that a person can use to make a 'phone call' to another person, no matter how far away they are."

"He won't answer" she snarls. "I even howled but he won't come. I'm his Alpha dammit."

Stiles shrugged "Can't be much of one if he won't answer your howl."

Laura growled and stepped forward, stopping when Deaton lay a hand on her shoulder with that inane smile that had Stiles wanting to rip his face right off and wear it like a hat.

"Now Laura, calm yourself. We wouldn't want to exacerbate your assault case by attacking agent Stilinski here now would we? I'm sure he could pass a message unto Derek for you."

Laura bristled, eyes flashing fire. "Tell Derek to come home if he knows what's best for him."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "I'll be sure to help him figure out just what's best for him then. Alpha Hale"

He nods stepping back, glancing at the Vet out of the corner of his eye. "Druid".

He tries not to let the venom coat his words but he's not that successful. Turning on his heel he stalks to the away, trying to get some air so that every breath doesn't seem like burning in his lungs. That man… that man who, with other of his wretched ilk, tore part of his soul away while he was still a child. Ripping away all his hopes and dreams in the process, destroying what future he would have had… could have had with Derek.

As much as Stiles claimed Derek as his, the truth was that the soul bond had been severed, maybe not completely, but enough that there was a good chance that it could never be fixed. That he would spend his life by Derek's side and yet still be an eternity away from the man who completed him in every way.

Leaning against the car, he took a deep breath, scenting Jim's presence as he approached, close enough to feel his warmth but not close enough to touch.

"I really don't like that man." Jim rumbled. Stiles barks a harsh laugh.

"Join the club. But I have to warn you, as Club President I have dibs on beating him to death with a baseball bat."

"It's not just that…" Jim shakes his head like a wet dog." … he smell funny. Rotten almost."

Stiles stares at him, serious. "It's his magic. It's decaying." he waves a hand at the forest. "This whole place is decaying. Something wrong is happening here. And I don't think it's just with that fetid tree fucker Scott works for."

"You think it has something to do with the Brights and Kate?" Clem asks as she steps up with Coz at her side.

"I dunno" Stiles frowns. "But I aim to find out."

Jim nods, looking at the others before turning to his Alpha. "We're in."

"Thanks" Stiles smile is soft and he watches them in turn. His phone rings, it's Derek.

"Hey Hot Stuff" Stiles grins, "What's shakin' bacon?"

"Stiles." Derek's voice is solemn and the smile falls from Stiles' face. "There's been a murder."

Derek pauses, he sounds shaken.

"You're going to need to see this."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Trigger Warning for death of a child. nothing to visual but death is implied. Lots of Blood though so please be forewarned for that.

***********************************

The house is in one of the more affluent neighborhoods of Beacon Hill. Home to such families as the Martins and the Whitmores, with its shiny homes and perfectly manicured lawns. Crystal blue waters of mosaic tiled swimming pools twinkled from behind artfully trimmed hedges and brilliantly sculpted gardens. Stiles had been to a birthday party here once upon a time, back when he and Scott and Jackson had still been friends.

The moss green of the coroner's van looks odd against the vibrant colours of the front garden. Derek's cruiser is parked next to it and several of the sheriff's deputies along with the white suited medical examiner were murmuring amongst themselves near the ornate front door, turning to stare at them as they exit the car.

Derek steps out into the sunlight, adjusting his sunglasses and they approach.

"What's the situation?" Stiles asked, shrugging into his leather jacket.

"It's not good." Derek's lips are pale and pressed together. "In fact, I'm not sure what the hell I'm even looking at. None of us have ever seen anything like this. That's why I thought it best to call you in."

He waves the medical examiner over, a short stocky woman with a riot of thick black curls barely held by a disposable medical cap. "Stiles, this is Doc Miréio Sorel, the medical examiner for Beacon County. Doc, this is SSA Stilinski of the Department of Fish and Wildlife, Special Branch. "

Her gloved handshake is strong and her eyes shrewd, glancing over his team and back to him. " Not sure what Fish and Wildlife can bring to this but I trust the Sheriff at his word."

She turns and strides into the open front door, past a pale Deputy Parrish and a solemn looking Boyd. The house is cool and exquisitely decorated and would come across as warm and inviting if not for the high stench of blood that hits them as they cross the threshold.

Jim ducks back out, staring confused at the doorway, the strong stench almost dissipating as he stepped across the threshold. Stepping back in he almost chokes at the cloying smell, catching Stiles gaze questioning gaze. Glancing at Derek, he confirms his suspicions that all the other Weres have noticed.

"That's not all." Derek murmurs under his breath, following the examiner up the large winding staircase that wrapped along the wall of the marble foyer. A short carpeted walkway leads them to where a pale Erica stands, camera in hand. She swallows thickly and at Derek's nod, hurries down the steps and into the fresh California air.

Slipping on a pair of latex gloves that Coz handed out to the team, Stiles places his hand flat on the closed door. It feels hot under his skin, the slow burning heat of waxing magic. He tilts his head, trying and failing to get any kind of information from the rapidly decaying spell.

"It's too degraded." he sighs, stepping back to let a wary looking Sorel turn the knob and open the door.

The room is awash with blood and rotting magic.

The walls the floors, the ceilings, all drenched in red that lazily dripped from ceiling fan and from sodden stuffed animals. He hears Coz inhale sharply behind him, Jim's soft expletive and he swallows hard, memories of waking up with blood on his tongue, of half remembered dreams that terrified him even in the bright light of day. His heart is pounding in his ears and he takes a half step back into the heat of Jim's hand on the small of his back.

"Boss?" Jim's breath is warm at his ear but he shakes his head and straightens, squaring his shoulders and pushing everything else away but the scene before him.

He gingerly steps into the room, a child's bedroom, eyes sharp as he takes in every detail. One single bed, one chest of drawers, one drawing table with crayons tossed askew, blood soaked into the once bright hand drawn pictures on sketch paper. Small tin cars piles with blocks in one corner. A collection of children's books warped and crimson on a lonely shelf. The bedding was sodden and dripping, the carpet squelching under foot.

"When was the scene discovered?" Jim's voice was barely above a growl. "This blood smells fresh from the vein."

Sorel frowned. "Two hours ago. I had time enough to drive down here from my office in Beacon Falls."

"And the body?" Because nothing could survive losing this much blood.

"What's left of it you mean?" the examiner shook her head, " … apart from the blood, all we could find was a pile of broken bones on the window sill, all cracked to pieces. Can't rightly tell who or what it even comes from until we get it to the labs. We were only able to confirm the victim's identity from the tooth fragment."

She pauses and Stiles almost loathes to ask. "And…"

"Deciduous lateral incisor. Fully developed. Puts the victim at 6 to 7 years old."

He has to close his eyes. Baby teeth. Damn.

Taking a breath, he turns to Derek. "Has any ID been confirmed?"

"Jefferson Titus. Age Six. Only son of the wealthy widower Cartwright Titus of Titus Automotive. Father says that he tucked him into bed at seven last night and saw the Housekeeper/Nanny off half an hour later. Never heard a sound. Found the room like this when he came to wake his son from breakfast. Called the police screaming bloody murder *cough* sorry… bad choice of words." Derek winced.

"Where's the father now?" Jim asked, peeling off his gloves as he stepped from the room, Coz stepping out behind him. "Can we talk to him?"

"Not sure what he can tell you. The paramedics are with him. Shock." Derek glanced back at where Stiles and Clem stood with Sorel in the blood soaked room and then looked long at Jim.

"Sure. Come on."

 

***************************************

"This is a lot of blood." Clem almost hissed under her breath at Stiles. "There isn't this much blood in the human body… much less a small child."

Sorel snorted and opened up her sample case. "No shit. To get this kind of coverage, they would have needed buckets of the stuff."

Stiles nodded, crossing his arms as he watched Examiner Sorel take samples of the blood from different parts of the room.

"So if this didn't come from the victim… where did it come from? What did it come from?"

Sorel closes the case and follows them out into the hallway. "That's what we have to find out I suppose. The poor nenet. May he have found his 'bon final', for Pater's sake."

"His good end?" Stiles translates, surprised, "… never thought I'd meet a Cathar so far from Occitania."

Sorel chuckles. "It's Catalonia now actually. But I'm not Languedoc born but a convert through marriage. My husband's an Financial Auditor and an Elect in the faith. I'm just a common Credente, haven't gone through the Consolamentum yet. Soon though.." she held up her hand with a grin. "…Fingers crossed."

"I'm surprised you figured that out just from a few words." She stands and turns toward him. "But you look like an old soul whose been through a few cycles of reincarnation yet. "

"Nah…" he denied, "Just a student of world history and languages. Plus, I recognized the tattoo of the Occitan Cross on your wrist. So, an auditor and a medical examiner huh? You guys must have heard ALL the jokes. Death and Taxes… come on. That's comedy gold."

********************************************

"Thanks TK" Stiles murmured, watching Clementine splash water on her flushed face. He'd set his Tech Expert searching into the Titus family background and could hear the soft murmurings of Coz and Jim coaxing answers out of the distraught father.

Even though they hadn't found a body, the shattered bones piled neatly on the sill made any hope for the boy's survival seem slim. That and the thick level of rotting magic mixed in with the blood. Just standing in the room for too long had Stiles gagging and most likely was the reason why the blood was still so fresh hours later.

And speaking of fresh blood…

"Wanna talk about it?" he leaned against the door way, meeting her eyes in the ornate mirror.

"Talk about what?" Clem patter her face dry with a towel, her tone wary.

"We've both seem some weird shit, things that freak us the fuck out but I've never seen you freeze like that in all the time I've known you. Even during that first case with Bert. Yet, you stood in the hallway today and didn't move a muscle. What happened?"

"What makes you think anything happened?" She looked away, carefully folding the towel and patting it flat. "... and what about you? You backed into Jim when that door opened. What happened there?"

"I… it was the blood… the bloody room " Stiles sighed and shook his head. "... there's something about it that's so familiar to me. It threw me for a moment." he gives her a sharp look, "Don't change the subject though. I'd like to believe that I know you well enough to know when something's bugging you."

"Do you?" she gritted out through clenched teeth, startling Stiles. "Do you really know me at all? Or do you just think you do?" He caught her arm as she tried to brush passed him and she scowled up at him.

"You're right. I'm Sorry" he capitulated, letting her go. "I shouldn't have pushed. I just want you to know that if you want to talk about anything I'm here for you… whenever… as both a boss and a friend. I'd like to think that we are friends at least."

She stared at him for a few moments, her eyes oddly vulnerable.

"I'd like to think that we are friends too." she finally nods with a hint of a smile, turning towards the large staircase.

Stiles thumps the back of his head against the wall, letting out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Okay."

********************************************

It's a few hours later that Stiles can get a few moments alone with his BAE. Derek had been growly since the crime scene and with setting up the situation room, Stiles checking in with his team and the deputies, popping over to visit his dad, stepping out for a quick bite, finishing up some reports on the death of Kate Argent and getting official approval to assist on the Titus investigation; he doesn't hesitate to pull Derek into his dad's tiny cold case office when he sees him alone.

Pushing the werewolf to sit on the old desk, he snuggles between his spread legs and kisses into a mouth that tastes like coffee and double glazed donuts. He hums his amusement into the kiss and runs his hands over his mate's chest, fingers curling as Derek's low rumbling vibrates through his body.

A moan is ripped from him as Derek pulls away, eyes flashing blue as he nips and nibbles along Stiles' neck, fangs gently scraping against his throat. Arms slip around his waist, crushing him to the werewolf's heaving chest, claws poking at him through his shirt.

"Der…" it's getting a bit harder to breath and he tugs gently at his mate's soft dark hair. "Derek."

The wolf seeks out his mouth once more, kissing him deeply, fangs grazing against his tongue, drawing droplet of blood from bruised lips. Stiles tugs harder, pulling them apart. Derek's eyes are blown wide open, his irises rings of blue light.

"Hey… Hey" Stiles sooths him, grunting as his hold loosens and his breathing calms, pressing soft kisses along his brow. "just breathe with me."

"Soooo…" he muses as Derek buries his face in Stiles neck, breathing deeply. "Wanna tell me what that was all about?" He gently pulls the other man's face away to meet his eyes, cupping his reddened cheeks.

Derek can't seem to meet his eyes. "Lost control I guess." he mumbles, shrugging.

"Lost control?" Stiles narrows his eyes. "I'm not sure if I buy that. You've been growly all day, ever since the crime scene. You won't look at me… it's like you're avoiding me. That last time you were like this was when Jim…oh" his eyes widen and Derek slumps. Stiles tilts the other man's face up to meet his eye.

"Derek, are you being a jealouswolf?"

Derek scoffs and crosses his arms in a sulk. "No"

Stiles smiles and pulls Derek's arms apart, wrapping them around his own waist and leaning into his lover. "Aww baby, Don't be jelly… you know you’re the only one for me."

Derek's chest heaves with a great sigh, his voice a delicious rumble against Stiles throat.

"I don't know what's wrong with me. Today at the scene. You stepped back into his hands. Like you trusted him to protect you… to have your back. Without thought or hesitation he was there… right behind you. All I could think was that it should've been me."

He looks up to meet Stiles' dismayed gaze.

"That it should have been me at your back, holding you, supporting you, protecting my mate. I know that's not what it really was and I wasn't even standing near you but the wolf in me couldn't stand that you sought out someone else for protection."

Stiles was aghast. "Derek I…"

Derek pressed a soft kiss to his soul mate's cheek, pulling him closer as he whispered. "Hey… it's not your fault or anything you did. This is me sorting out my issues like a grown up and screwing up. Jim's a great agent and your established Beta and Second. I'm just a failwolf who wants to somehow fit his life together with yours. I've spent half my life thinking I'd lost you forever. My wolf is pretty territorial right now. I'm just going to have to work through these feelings myself, okay?"

"Okay" Stiles voice is a bit tremulous. He presses a desperate kiss to his mate's soft lips. "Okay."

Derek nods and grins. "okay."

Stiles phone beeps and he twists around in Derek's hold to fish it out of his pocket. He cursed as he read the short message. Derek frowns "What is it?"

"Something wicked this way comes." Stiles slumps unto Derek's shoulder with a groan. "I had TK keep track of your families' travel records to give us a head up when they got to town. They'll be here by tomorrow afternoon."

Derek hangs his head with a groan. "How many?"

"All of them."


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles sits on the old bench swing on the back porch and watches the fireflies hover at the edge of the wards. The wind is picking up a little but he has the fugly yellow and brown afghan from his dad's recliner wrapped around his shoulders, that old familiar scent filling his nose. A batman mug sits on the bench's arm, steam still rising from the hot chocolate that Coz pressed into his hands a few minutes ago. His minds drifts to his team… his pack, as the soft light of the kitchen highlight the edges the darkened porch and garden beyond.

Coz was slipping into mother hen mode, something he had done a lot with his sister Naomi during her battles with addiction. These days he slipped into the role more easily whenever he was away from his bond mate, John Rahway.

It had been stated in his deal with the government that Coz and John had to work for different departments but Stiles had been fighting that clause tooth and nail for the past few months. Being forcibly kept apart from your mate was something that had never sat well with him and the FBI's attitude towards the case had stuck in Stiles' craw something awful.

Frowning at his phone, he quickly sent off a text, tucking the device back into the pocket of his sweats.

Clem was another story. He'd pushed too far too fast earlier at the house. For all he knew her, there was so much he didn't know. And while his natural curiosity burned just below his ribs to dig into shroud of mystery that seemed to cling to her, he trusted her to not let anything she kept to herself become a detriment to the pack. If she wanted to confide in him, she would do it in her own time. At least, he hoped she trusted him enough to talk to him. In the mean time he'd have her six and be ready with an ear or a shoulder when she needed it.

He takes a sip of the warm cocoa, smiling softly at the marshmallows and the sound of Jim Longworth's laughter through the kitchen window. He shifted with a sigh, pulling the rough wool closer around his shoulders. Jim had been with him the longest, years of trust and loyalty. He'd seen the man through hard times as he recovered from both the emergence of his wolf and the subsequent loss of his mate and her son. Granted, Callie was not his bonded mate but he'd chosen her as his eternal other half and having her walk away from him had been devastating.

Drowning in grief and moonshine deep in the everglades, it had taken Stiles' mentor Bert's pure stubborn orneriness to drag Jim up from the bottom of a bottle and it had been a battle and a half keeping him from falling back in. After Bert's death, it had been Jim at Stiles' side, supporting him as grief crashed upon them like a wave.

Through time and trials tested and tempered with blood, sweat and more than a few manly tears; Jim had been his second, his team mate, his friend and sometimes lover. He loved the man with a familial fierceness that eluded him after leaving Scott behind all those years ago. He loved them all so much that it squeezed his heart and stole his breath.

A chime came from his phone, the cry of Obi Wan's Varactyl from Revenge of the Sith and he squinted at his phone in the darkness. He chuckled at TK's answering text, marveling at how his IT specialist got so skilled at conveying sarcasm through emojis. Taiki, the honey voice in the team's ear on every case was just as much pack as the others, despite him not being there physically. Keeping them connected, informed and grounded, the albino genius was the lynch pin of their little operation.

They were his team, his friends, his pack. They accepted him for what he was and he in turn accepted them for who they were, when nobody else would have them. He took them and made them into something they all could be proud of and in turn they made him into something he could face every day in the mirror.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Derek stands in the golden glow of the kitchen light, looking loose and relaxed in a t-shirt and basketball shorts. Stiles opens the folds of the afghan and soon he has an armful of hot werewolf. Derek is like a furnace against the night's gathering chill. He steals a slurp from the cooling cocoa, making pleased noises as he quickly drains the mug despite Stiles' good natured grumbling.

After shuffling into primo snuggle positions, they settle into comfortable silence, Stiles's lips resting against the warm salty caramel skin just behind Derek's ear. His mate's pulse jumps beneath his touch and he revels in the slight tremor that shudders through the man in his arms.

"My thoughts are worth more than a penny I'll have you know. There's such a thing as inflation. Is this how they're educating kids these days? What… were you raised by wolves or something?"

Derek sighed heavily, his tone dry as the desert. "How badly have you been wanting to use that line?"

Stiles chest vibrates with laughter. "Since the day we met." Derek rolls his head back to give Stiles an incredulous look.

"Since then?" he stutters "… but … but how did you even know what I was?"

"My mom told me." Stiles' smile is bittersweet. "She often talked about the 'others' as she called them. She never made a big deal out of it so neither did I. Besides, she was a big fan of the team and you were her favourite player. She always went on about how skilled you were, how much concentration it took to play without using your wolfy advantage. We went to almost every home game you played in."

Derek blushed "I don't know what to say." Stiles pressed a kiss against his heated cheek.

"You don't have too. It just made you all the cooler when I discovered you were my mate." Stiles rubbed his cheek against Derek's hair line, his voice low. "Kate Argent confirmed it for me though."

He tightens his arms as Derek stiffens, hissing out a soft "How?"

"Her ring… it was silver and it cut you when she slapped you."

"But silver doesn't hurt us like that."

Stiles chuckles ruefully. "I know. By the time my dad pulled me off her it had already healed. All that was left was a few drops of blood. No human can heal that fast."

Derek weaves his fingers into Stiles. "You noticed that in all the drama of that night?"

"I'm my father's son."

Stiles phone chimes again and it takes some wrestling and a bit of groping to get it from his pocket.

Derek blinks at the screen's brightness. "Any news?"

Stiles shakes his head, tucking the phone into Derek's pocket and leaning back unto the bench.

"Not much. Just Grams giving me an update on their progress back home."

Derek grows still in his pretense at being nonchalant. "And. How's it going?" he says lightly. Stiles pulls him closer to his chest with a deep breath.

"It's going. They're reaching out to others in the magical community, calling in markers and favours. They'll find something soon."

'They have to' goes unsaid between them in the still night air. Because there is no alternative. Stiles may have gotten by with a savaged soul bond back then, when he thought it was just bond rejection, just heartbreak, before he knew what had really happened. But now that he had Derek back in his life, losing him again would surely break Stiles totally.

He shiver thrums through him at the thought and he feels chilled. "Derek"

The wolf twists around at the tremor in his voice. "Babe?"

Stiles stares into worried kaleidoscope eyes and feels like he can't breathe.

"Take me to bed."

They ascend the stairs in silence, hand in hand, listening to the team move around the house, muffled voices and squeaking floorboards. They don't speak as they undress each other in the dark of Stiles' childhood bedroom. Fingertips touch and explore warm, salty skin and where they go, lips and tongues soon follow. Moans and sighs swallowed by deep wet kisses that steal the breath from their lungs. Hot sweaty skin to skin under the covers, breathy names that tumble from lips in whispers like absolutions.

His mate's breath hot and heavy against his neck and the pure pleasure of a man's weight above him have him biting his lip to stifle cries of pure pleasure. To touch, to taste, to claim his mate once again as his fangs drop and he bites into the meaty flesh of his wolf's shoulder, near the mark he made in the warehouse in what seems like a lifetime ago.

He shakes apart, vision whiting out, safe in his lover's arms; murmuring affection and soft caresses. Sleep finds him tucked against Derek's chest, steady heartbeat under his ear.

He wakes with the taste of blood on his tongue and a scream in his throat.

The rattling of the bones echoing in his ears.

 

*************************************

Stiles feels like shit and surely looks like it too. Judging from Derek's reluctance to leave for work, his eyes worried and stormy as he drags his way to the door. Only Stiles' team's assurances have Derek finally slipping out the front door but the memory of his fear still haunts Stiles even in the early light of day. He's ensconced with his team in the living room, all of them still in their sleep wear, looking just as exhausted as he surely did.

It was a miracle his screams hadn't woken his father and the man still slept in his downstairs room. The last thing Stiles remembered had been snuggling in bed with Derek. The next thing he knew, he'd been struggling against an iron hold, screaming as he fought to get free. Then there'd been growling and shouting and the sound of a gun being cocked.

He'd somehow flipped himself out of the bed to land on the floor with a thud, startling him out of his nightmare. Later he was told that he'd scrambled, crab style into a corner and swiped claws at any who dared come close. Eventually it had been Jim shooing everyone out of the room, after a very heated discussion with Derek, and calmly sitting at the centre of the rug. It took Jim almost an hour of rambling anecdotes about his time as a police officer and their time together in special branch's first days to get Stiles back to himself.

He'd stumbled into Jim's arms, trembling with an unknown terror. Seeing that terror mirrored in Derek's eyes as he stood in the doorway. Together they'd helped a shaken Stiles down to the living room where Coz and Clem waited with a light breakfast and freshly steeped tea to sooth Stiles' sore and scratchy throat.

Coz cleared his throat, startling Stiles and making him slosh hot tea unto the couch. The older man carefully took the cup and placed it on the side table, squatting in front of Stiles as he tucked the afghan around his alpha's thighs.

"We're all thinking it and so I'm going to say it." he glanced around at the others. "What in the ever loving fuck was that Boss?"

"I don't have a fucking clue." Stiles chuckles almost hysterically, choking the rest of it back as Clem gently squeezed his arm; tucking closer to his side. "I've never felt anything like that before."

"What can you remember?" Jim sits forward, "Are your wards intact?"

Stiles frowns, running his fingertips down his bare arm and chest under the afghan, his rune tattoos flashing as they pass.

"No… still going strong." He bites his lips, shutting his eyes as he thinks back. "I don't remember much… just blood… and bones."

Clem hisses a breath. "Back at the house. You said the bloody room looked familiar. You stepped back when the door opened."

Jim sits back into his armchair, his claws digging into the upholstery. "You think this may have something to do with the magic you sensed at the crime scene. You said the magic was too degraded to do much."

Stiles leaned into Clem's warmth, the soft scent of sleep still clinging to her. "I don't know. There' just something about the blood… and the bones. They're so loud… just rattling and rattling and rattling" his voice trails off as he stares into space, unaware of the worried looks his team exchange.

The doorbell makes them all jump, Coz giving a yelp he will forever deny. Blushing he jumps up, hurdling the coffee table to hide his embarrassment as Jim snickers and Clem hides a smile in her coffee. He swings the door open, ready to greet Janek's nurse when he freezes, the cheerful greeting forgotten on his tongue.

"Honey, I'm home." John Rahway shrugs with a rueful grin, shifting the strap of his go-bag on his shoulder, his travel suit rumpled from the Red Eye.

"And here I thought would be happy to see me." his smile is sunny as Coz chokes out a groan and pulls him in for a crushing hug, lifting him off his feet for a searching kiss.

"What?... How?" Coz gasps when they finally part, his eyes bright and a little wet.

John nods to a smiling Stiles, "Guess who's the new legal liaison to Fish & Wildlife Special Branch?"

Coz turns to Stiles in surprise.

"The FBI won't budge on the basics of your deal. Pushing his transfer through official channels may take years. This was the only way I could get around the system. It's not fair what they did to you… " Stiles fiddles with the rough wool in his lap. "… no one should be kept from their mate. No one."

Coz walks over to crouch before stiles, still hand in hand with his soul mate. He leans forward, touching his forehead to Stiles', free hand snaking to cup the back of his head.

"Thank you." his voice is soft and heart felt. "For everything you've done for me. Thank you so much."

"It's what we do for pack." Stiles reaches up to grasp Coz's forearm with a smile. He looks up at John's sky blue eyes.

"Welcome to the team."

Johns laugh is a bit watery as he pulls Coz up into a hug.

"Thanks Boss."


	5. Chapter 5

...................................................................

 

The team is only steps into the Sheriff's station when Derek pulls Stiles into the tiny cold case closet-office that has become their oasis. He sinks into his wolf's embrace without a word, held tight against that solid chest as he runs his nose along the warm skin under Derek's collar. The press of the sheriff's badge against his own chest brings a certain comfort that Stiles hadn't felt since the famous 'dad hugs' of his childhood.

There's a slight tremble under the wolf's heated skin, a subtle trip of his heartbeat that belies his agitation and Stiles presses his lips to the taller man's pulse and hums soothingly.

"It's fine. "I'm fine." He mumbled, tasting caramel skin. Derek's arms just tightened as he huffed into Stiles hair, breathing deeply.

It had taken a full hour for Stiles to feel well enough to leave the sofa where he'd been snuggled in tight with his pack that morning, teasing what details he could from his fragmented memories. Mostly he'd spent it letting Jim and Clem talk over him as John shrugged off his suit coat and followed Coz into the kitchen to assist in making breakfast.

Stiles suspected there was more kissing than cooking going on in there and he smiled smugly into his mug. Sheila came in three quarters of an hour later, bright and chipper and ready with a sassy comment that made a sleep grumpy Janek chuckle as they went through his morning routine. Stiles was grateful for the distraction, not wanting his normally observant father to realize that anything was amiss with his son.

The night terror, he shuddered a bit at the name but could not really call it anything else; left him fatigued, his muscles still spasming and twitching from the unconscious strain. A headache pulsed behind his dry and scratchy eyes and his mouth still tasted like blood, even after brushing his teeth… twice. He'd needed Jim's quiet support to wobble up the stairs, bathe and get dressed.

Breakfast was subdued as they brought John up to date on the Titus case and he in turn briefed them about some choices Stiles would have to make about legal action against the Hales. Even though Bond interference was a federal offense and could land Talia Hale in prison for a very long time, the case was also a supernatural one and thus was subject to oversight by Special Committee.

For all that the supernatural world was the worst kept secret in like… ever, it still was not totally under the public domain. Across the country… people, places, sometimes entire towns were in the know. It wasn't exactly a secret per say, it's just that they didn't tell everyone else about it. Taking the case to Federal Court could become very complicated for all involved.

He'd strapped on his shoulder holster and badge in silence, slipping his ID into his pocket and shrugging on his jacket, shoring up his mental and physical defenses as he slipped into the shotgun seat of the rental as Jim snatched the keys from a distracted Clem.

In the end though his boss, the Director of Fish and Wildlife, had left it up to him on how to pursue the matter, knowing before Stiles even knew himself that he the only one who could make the choice, along with Derek of course. Stiles had not been the only one wronged in this- the only one in pain all these wasted years.

His Wolf had been ripped from his soul mate by the machinations of his own mother, his own pack… no matter what her intentions were. That kind of betrayal had not been easy for the Derek to process, the inner struggle of his love for his family warring with his inner wolf's grief at being ripped from his mate by those same-self loved ones.

Stiles trembled, pressing deeper into Derek's warmth as the wolf rumbled deep within is chest. Here in his lover's arms, Stiles felt safe from the world, if only for a little while.

………………………………………………….  
  


They have a situation room set up from the Argent search and those photos and files get swapped out for Titus crime scene photos, witness statements as Stiles sends the last of the Argent documents by courier to TK. Erica and Boyd are in the corner, steadily going through Doctor Sorel's preliminary reports and awaiting word from the more complex lab analyses of the blood and bones fragments.

Parrish and Coz are putting together a picture of Cartwright Titus' life and anyone in it who could be both motivated and capable of such carnage against an innocent. Clem, along with Boyd, had gone to re-interview the victim's father, visiting him at the Beacon Hills Grand as he refused to stay in the house where his son was killed.

Jim had gone with John to the District Attorney's office to discuss the Argent case wrap up and what potential legal repercussions the Hales and Deaton could face for what they'd done to Stiles and Derek.

Stiles, dove head first into research, using his google fu as well as his federal access to several supernatural databases and his Gram's coven access to a few non-governmental ones. The list of beings with similar MO's was a long one but Stiles soon had it whittled down by half by process of elimination.

Derek? Well Derek hovered. Derek had nodded when Stiles assured him that he was fine but had yet to move more than ten feet from wherever Stiles was situated. If he wasn't hovering over Stiles' shoulder, he was sitting on the edge of his desk. Or using the phone closest to him or leaning against the door of his office, pretending to browse a file as he burned holes in Stiles' back with his stare.

Finally, after sending off a secure email to one his contacts at the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency, who headed a maverick team (another governmental special branch) collecting cutting edge data on the supernatural found above, on and below planet earth; he snagged Derek and dragged down the block to the local greasy spoon. Grabbing a booth just as the lunch rush was over, he waited until the waitress left with their order before he broached the subject.

"Hey…penny for your thoughts? I'd offer more but you're a bit of a cheap date so I figured I'd start low, see how far that got me" he grinned as that got a quirk of the lips and a small eye roll out of Derek. "Ah… there's the sourwolf I know and love."

He reaches out to grasp the other man's hands across the table, taking a moment to revel in how warm they are. "Wanna tell me what's going on in that mind of yours? I may be many, many awesome things and I'm talking about next level awesome here but even I'm not a mind reader."

It takes the waitress coming back with their order and refilling their drinks before Derek is ready to speak.

"It's nothing. I'm dealing with it." he all but growls around a mouthful of beef so rare Stiles swore it mooed at him. The faint smell of blood coming from the plate was enough to have Stiles swallowing heavily and his burger turned to ash in his mouth. Taking a deep gulp of cola, he gingerly pushed his plate away; smiling weakly at Derek's concerned gaze.

The werewolf glanced between Stiles and his plate and let out a soft whine, setting his knife and fork down heavily as his face paled. The clatter made the waitress look up to see Derek sliding from the booth, pulling Stiles out of his seat and quickly guiding him outside into fresh air.

Stiles stuttered at the jostling. "What… Derek… the food?"

"Forget the food" Derek snarled, grabbing Stiles' shoulders to face him. "It'll keep."

"Then what…?"

Derek looked stricken. "The blood… I wasn't even thinking when I ordered that. You looked like you were about to be sick. I'm so sorry Stiles. I should have known."

"Hey ... Hey…" Stiles cupped Derek's face, "You couldn't have known. Hell, I didn't even know how I would react to it. I take my burgers rare… not half alive like yours but still. It happened. Now we know okay? It's not a big deal."

The wolf shook his head, bowing it as if in shame. "It shouldn't have happened. With everything else, with Kate, the Hales, the bond and now with these dreams…. I'm supposed to protect my mate … to protect you. I have to protect you."

"Derek Sebastian Hale." Stiles frowned, pulling Derek's face gently up to meet his gaze. "Listen to me when tell you this. I am the Alpha and if there's anyone whose duty it is to protect another… then it's mine. Wait… listen. Being my soul mate doesn't mean you need to protect me… it means you love and care for me and don't want to see me hurt. Just as I love and care for you. We're in this together. We protect each other and that is what makes us stronger. It's not about duty or obligation. Do you understand?"

He presses a quick kiss to Derek's closed lips, the lingering taste of blood still too much on the tongue for a deeper one.

"Besides, you may be the big bad wolf around town but I'll have you know that I'm a BAMF Agent for the frikkin' US Government and know how to kick ass and take names with the rest of them."

Derek tilts his head with a wry smile, "BAMF?"

"Yeah… it means Bad Ass Mother-"

"Shut your mouth." The wolf snaps playfully.

Stiles laughter echoes through the parking lot. "Oh… wolfie got jokes huh?"

He slaps Derek on the ass with a grin. "Go get our food jerk wolf. And Derek?"

Derek turns with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah babe?"

"You don't have to deal with this alone anymore. You have me. You have pack. Ok?"

The smile on his face that takes Stiles breath away.

"Ok."

………………………………………………………………….  
  


Grim faces greet them back at the station. Jim, on a hunch that Stiles dreams and the murder of the Titus boy could be somewhat related, had gone through the most recent missing persons on the reserve, liaising with forest services to any campers who gone missing in the last few hours.

What details they could glean from Stiles fractured memories that morning had involved the woods. Running through the woods terrified and alone, the rattle of the bones a breath behind. Since the first dream had involved a bedroom and the subsequent crime scene had been eerily similar, there was a good chance that this one might give them a heads up to whatever seemed to be happening.

"Thomas Fabien, 34, Father of Paul Fabien, age 6 have been reported missing this morning." Jim tacked a picture of a smiling young man with a just as happy boy sitting on his broad shoulders. "… they left home yesterday morning for an overnight camping trip in a real forest, Paul's first camp out that wasn't in their back yard. They checked in with Mrs. Fabien last night before bed and everything seemed fine."

He sticks up another picture, this time of the two Fabien males with a smiling female hugging them both.

"They missed their check in this morning and all calls to Fabien's cell phone have gone unanswered."

"Maybe they're out of range. The reserve can be hell on signal strength." Erica volunteered.

"Fabien could have tossed the phone." Parrish countered, "Maybe he wanted to leave his wife, take the kid? It wouldn't be the first time."

Coz shook his head. "We already had TK check it out. There have been no movement on his credit cards since yesterday morning and his truck is still in the reserve's paid parking lot. Besides, the phone is on. We've managed to narrow it down to a three hundred yard radius."

"Then what's the problem? We can send some deputies to check it out." Derek frowned, crossing his arms.

"We already did…" Jim sighed. "We tracked the signal out to an old train crossing on the I290 highway. Some 70 miles away. The phone had been left in a shallow ditch at the side of the road. It was covered in blood. Still wet… fresh like the Titus crime scene. We've sent it to be analyzed by the labs and TK's already done an info dump on it. He should have something for us shortly."

"So maybe we're all over reacting and a man and his son are in the woods eating hot dogs on a stick…" Boyd sat back in his chair. "… or we have another blood bath somewhere out in the reserve." he looks to Derek.

"What do we do boss.?"

Derek stares at the picture of the happy family for a long moment then nods to himself.

"I won't split my resources between an ongoing murder case and a hunch…" he raises a hand as Jim opens his mouth to speak. "… but then again I don't have to." he turns to Stiles. "Can your team run with this? See how it pans out?"

Derek is asking as Sheriff to Agent and Stiles nods solemnly, glancing at Jim as the beta wolf's shoulder relax.

"You got it Sheriff."

………………………………………………………….


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAS ART. i love doing banners, doing them is one of the things that helps me write. especially during Rough Trade. you can find them here if you want. http://zielahime.tumblr.com/post/144869943602/artwork-and-banners-for-you-gotta-go-with-the-flow

....................................................

They were ten minutes' walk into the forest from the parking lot where Fabien's truck remained parked, under police guard. Having checked in with the Forest Ranger on duty, they'd poured over maps of the area and the supposed camp site while Jim and Clem spoke with a worried Mrs. Fabien; getting articles of clothing of both father and son to help track them by scent.

"What I don't understand…" Stiles sighed as he stepped over a large root, "… is why am I having these dreams? Why me? And what is the connection, if any, between me having these dreams and the actual murders?" He kicked a stray stone from his path, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

Jim was in full betashift, his dark brown coat glistening in the dappled sunlight through the trees. He growled his agreement to Stiles' frustration as he scented the air. Coz looked up from his GPS monitor.

"The chance of this being some bizarre coincidence is abysmally low. Add to the fact that from what we know from Kate Argent's slip of the tongue just before she was killed, Stiles was lured back here for a reason by the machinations of Connie Bright. What we don't know is why Bright wanted Stiles back in Beacon Hills? And why she used Kate Argent to do it? What we don't know is what happened to Connie Bright after Stiles ripped her shoulder out in that old warehouse. Why was she even in Beacon Hills with the Red Hills cubs in the first place? Is she even still alive?"

"That's a lot of things that we don't know. " Clem hums, " And if she is still alive, would she have the enough know how to do something like this?"

"Or enough money to pay for it." Stiles counters. Coz nods along, deftly side stepping a rabbit hole.

"And even if she is dead, we still have Eugene Bright to deal with and from what I've read in his file he is NOT a forgiving man. He seems like the man who would seek to torment his wife's would-be killer in revenge. To attack you magically and attack this town… your home town."

"It all seems convoluted to me. Almost comically so." Clem observed. "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain." She intoned in a spooky voice.

They fell silent, their boots crunching on leaves and twigs the only sounds  for a while. Clem's words laid heavy on Stiles mind. If this was all connected, some kind of complicated dog and pony show; then they needed to find out who was pulling the strings. And soon.

Jim stops suddenly, tense and alert. Stiles scans the forest, finger tips touching a gently glowing rune on his forearm. Coz and Clem reach for their weapons as a low growl comes from Stiles' beta. The forest is silent, unnaturally still. Even the breeze had dropped to nothing. Stiles falls into his shifter senses and picks up a lingering scent, faint and familiar.

That warm caramel that Derek carried yet mixed with cardamom and finely aged scotch whiskey. A Hale… a Hale Were from that hint of dark smoke and ash that lingered on all shifters. He takes a deeper breath, plucking lavender and white ginger from the cool air. With human company to boot.

"Olly olly oxen free" Stiles chimed, grinning as a tall bearded man stepped out from behind a large tree, his steps careful and silent as he approached. Stiles lets his fingertips fall from his tattoo and feels his team relax a bit behind him. Jim is still tense and would remain so for the entire encounter with the unknown wolves.

The man is handsome, distractingly so and his eyes are intelligent and searching as he takes in Stiles' team one by one. Stiles can still see so much of Derek in him, even after all these years.

"Hey Mr. H… what's kickin'?" He shoves his hands in his jacket pocket and cocks his head with a cheeky smile. "What brings you back to these old hills…." he jerks is chin toward the woods behind the other man. "… and with friends I see"

There's a female voice choked off, Cora's. "How did he…?" before another male shifter stepped out into view, along with Cora and a young human girl of about the same age. He comes up and props an elbow on the taller man's broad should with a smirk, Cora hanging back with a scowl as the other girl ambles over to stand at the male's side.

"I like this one Ash." the unknown Hale smirks at Stiles, "… You must be Stilinski. Funny you don't look like a demon, freshly crawled out of hell to kidnap my nephew as a mindless sex slave."

Stiles snorts a laugh. "That's hilarious. You must have been talking to Laura. She's not too happy with lil' ole me right now… what with the assault charges and all."

Alpha Mate Ashford Hale rolled his eyes with a put upon sigh, "Well I heard that the Stilinski boy who used to run around town like a bundle of twigs is back in the day has come back as an incubus, hell bent on sucking Derek's brains out through his dick."

Coz coughs loudly into his fist as Stiles wheezes out his next breath. Even Jim chuffs.

Clem looks so very done with the entire situation. "Then you must have been talking to Peter." she sighs as Stiles beats his own chest for breath.

As he tried to steady his breathing, Stiles watches the Hales. He recognizes Talia's husband and Alpha Mate as well as their youngest Cora. Who he didn't know was the other male Were and the human girl, even from back in the day when he was 'stalking' *cough* watching his new found soul mate Derek and the Hales all through and after the Argent Trial.

The man his ruggedly handsome, dark hair and clear eyes like Derek with that same sexy stubble. He's tanned and hard from manual labour in the sun though his eyes are sharp and glint with humour. The girl is all sun kissed skin and dark curls with a mixed parentage that surely included some Native American, maybe even Inuit. He'd heard word of a contingent of Hales living in Alaska.

"I can smell the blood on you." a soft voice pierces through his thoughts and he snaps his eyes to her as everyone tenses.

As Stiles wills his thumping heart to steady, Cora steps towards the girl with a concerned look of her face.

"Konay?"

John Doe Hale wraps an arm around the girl's shoulder, pulling her to his side. "Yakone honey?... You with us, panik?"

Ashford casts a wary glance at Stiles before turning to the other wolf. "Heath?"

Heath Hale (Talia and Peter's middle brother- Stiles mind supplied from reading TK's work up in the Hale family tree) gently brushes a stray hair from his daughter's forehead as she stares unseeingly into the distance. "Come back to me honey… come back to your ata."

She blinks lazily, eyes tracking back to Stiles. "I can hear the bones."

At the toneless flat words, a chill runs down his back and Stiles closes his hands into fists to stop them from trembling. With a calm that belies nothing of the slapping of his heart in his chest, he gives her a small bland smile.

"You can hear them too?" he doesn't bother to deny it.

"The bloody bones stalks the penitent heart. It hunts amongst the dreams."

Her voice is stilted and faltering as her eyes meet his for only a moment when she gasps, sagging into her father's arms. He sweeps her up without a word and within seconds had disappeared through the trees, a grim looking Cora on his heels.

Ashford Hale lingers, looking after them with worried eyes that he soon turns to Stiles.

"Derek's been avoiding Talia's phone calls." he raised an eyebrow with a small frown. "She won't stand for that kind of thing for very long."

Stiles nods, "Thanks for the heads up Mr. H. Appreciate it."

Ashford shakes his head slightly. "I don't want to see my son hurt Stilinski. No matter what pack he's in."

And with those words he's gone, vanishing between the trees without a sound. Stiles huffs out a breath and shares puzzled glances with his team.

"What the frikkin' frak was that?" he groans, slapping his hand to his forehead as Coz just shrugs and consults the GPS once again.

Their path veers away from the direction the Hales vanished to and after another half mile they stumble on what could only be described as the kill site. Wolf Jim is the first to baulk at the smell that seemed to come out of nowhere. Even with Stiles expanded shifter sense of smell, they'd not detected a hint of blood until they'd almost tripped over it.

Stiles stumbled back at the stench of blood and rotting magic, steadying himself against a nearby tree. He catches sight of a pale faced Clem before she pivots and darts behind another tree, gagging and coughing harshly. Coz presses a pristine white handkerchief to his face with an unsteady hand, covering his nose and mouth against the smell.

This time the blood covered the area within a fifteen foot radius, reaching up to ten feet high on the trees within the perfect circle. On a rough stump in the middle of the area it a small pile of shattered bone fragments, still glistening red in the dappled sunlight. Just beyond the blood Stiles glimpses a bit of colour among the bushes and at his soft command, a pale but steady Clem and Jim cut a wide path around the blood to investigate.

"It's the father. Fabien."

Stiles walks around to take a look. "Any visible cause of death?"

"Nothing we can see without touching the body." Clem replies.

Stiles nods. "Leave it to Sorel then." he looks around the site with a frown. "I'm surprised there was a body to find. Whatever this thing is, it's only left blood and bone fragments before. And last time it left the father alive and he was in the next room. What has changed?"

"Titus was a room over. Fabien would have been sharing a tent with the victim. He must have heard something… as quiet as the unsub may have wanted to be. He must have woken up."

"What I don't understand is…" Clem murmured, "Where's their equipment? If they were camping here then their stuff should be here. Where is it all?"

Stiles squatted to observe the body. "His shoes are missing but his socks are muddy, so are his pants. His hands are scratched and dirty, defensive wounds on his palms and wrists. Maybe he woke up in the middle of it, grabbed his son and ran. There's no blood on him but his own though. Maybe it caught up with them here and got to work."

He stood, pulling out his phone, "The father was collateral damage. It just wanted the boy."

The phone rings twice before he hears Derek's cautious voice. "Babe?"

"Sheriff.." Stiles begins and hears Derek sitting heavily on the other side of the line.

"Time to call in Sorel. We've got another one."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now with artwork http://zielahime.tumblr.com/post/144869943602/artwork-and-banners-for-you-gotta-go-with-the-flow

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Stiles drained the last of his cold coffee with a grimace, setting it on the table amidst the empty pizza boxes, freshly printed crime scene photos and coffee rings left on scattered yellow notepad pages. He looked across the deserted situation room to where Derek sat slumped in his chair, gazing blankly at the messy handwritten notes and sketches Erica had made from the Fabien crime scene.

Watching Derek try to comfort a hysterical Mrs. Fabien had been brutal, the woman's heavy sobs echoing in the forest reserve parking lot. The werewolf had been tense since then, his shoulders tight and his eyes hidden by his mirrored sunglasses. Keeping careful watch on his mate for the rest of the day, Stiles did all he could to give Derek the silent and steady support he needed to deal with the press and the public as well as keep calm in the face mounting frustration among the deputies.

The truth was that they were getting nowhere fast and had a whole lot of nothing to show for it. The lab results had come in inconclusive, only that the bones and the blood were human. The DNA had been too tainted for a positive match and there were no witnesses, no evidence, not even a cause of death for Mr. Fabien except sudden heart failure.

Cartwright Titus, upon hearing of the second murder, had stormed into the station yelling about serial killers, wrongful death lawsuits and incompetent hick town cops. It had taken both Jim and Coz to calm him, quickly ushering him into the sheriff's empty office where the man had eventually broken down, collapsing unto the couch in a heap.

Later that evening, a shaky Titus and a fragile widow Fabien gave a heart breaking plea over the local news, asking for any information and offering reward. Stiles had stood at a stoic Derek's side as he'd addressed the rabid press, stepping in only when the questions turned toward Federal interest in the case. Even though Special Branch had jurisdiction because of the magical nature of the murders, for public reassurance, a liaison from the FBI would be flying in to assist with the case. TK was already in deep into the information superhighway with Garcia at the BAU and Stiles hoped that they would have an official profile for them soon.

Finally Derek had sent everyone home for the night, face dark and broody as the day shift dragged themselves home and let the night shift cast new eyes on all the old information. Stiles had already made his team pack up for the day, scenting them all one by one as they left to calm both their nerves and his own.

Stretching out his aching back, Stiles ambled over to Derek's chair and slowly eased himself into his wolf's lap, sighing as warm hands came to rest on his hips. Pressing his nose into Derek's temple he breathed in with a sigh.

"So… guess who I met today in the big bad forest?" Stiles teases softly at Derek's quirked eyebrow. "Your dad, your uncle Heath and one of your cousins… Yakone. They had Cora with them."

Derek ran warm hand up and down Stiles back as they both relaxed by degrees. "Uncle Heath and his family live in Alaska. His wife Tikaani is Inuit, a daughter of one of the tundra werewolf packs even though she was born human and chooses to remain so. Yakone is their only child. She's human too. "

"I could tell." Stiles hummed, "Interesting girl though. She told me something today."

Derek cast a wary gaze at him. "Yeah?"

"Umm-hm. "Stiles nodded, " She said that she could hear the bones."

Derek takes a deep breath in the ensuing silence, his heart thumping in his chest under Stiles palm. Stiles lets the silence linger, sensing the struggle Derek was going through between loyalty to his family and loyalty to his mate. He brushed the tip of his nose on the skin behind his wolf's ear, letting his hot breath huff against the sensitive skin of Derek's neck.

"Uncle Heath has always been a bit different." Derek finally said softly. "A fire cracker really. More adventurous than Mo…. uh Talia. More loquacious than Peter, he chafed against pack restraints for a long time. Being a middle child is tough enough but add to that being in a wolf pack, son of the alpha. With M… Talia being groomed for leadership and Peter running wild all over creation, he wasn't happy. After M… Talia became alpha, It got even worse. She expected so much from him, put so much on him because Peter had spent his life proving how unreliable a Hale he truly was.

After a huge fight, she sent him to Alaska for six months to hammer out a treaty with the packs up there and he just… never came back. Got himself engaged to the daughter of a very powerful alpha. Talia was pissed but even she didn't want to alienate her new in laws. She also didn't want to cross the grand-daughter of the most powerful medicine man among the packs of the tundra."

Stiles cocked his head. "Let me guess, Heath's new Bride. Tikaani"

Derek nodded.

"… who had probably learned all sorts of mad skills from her old grand pappy?"

Another nod.

"… and who would have eventually passed that knowledge unto her human daughter?"

Nod.

"I see."

Derek shifted to look up into his Alpha's eyes. "Cousin Nay has always been special to me."

"Hey there now" Stiles is quick to smooth back Derek's hair and cup the back of his neck. "I have no quarrel with your cousin… or most of the Hales really. If you say she's good people then I believe you. It's the bond breakers I have beef with. They're the ones that need to be worried."

As Derek relaxed under his soft petting, Stiles pressed a kiss to his temple.

"Speaking of having beef. Your dad told me that you've been avoiding your mom's calls like the plague. Not that I blame you or anything… " Stiles assured the wolf as Derek shifted uncomfortably. "… it's just that I wished you'd told me that she was trying to make contact."

"Derek sighed and buried his face in Stiles neck with a soft whine. "With everything else going on… I just wanted it to go away. I can't deal with that right now."

"I get it. I really do, but that's what you have me for. I'm your partner in this. I'm your alpha. If you don't want to deal with Talia…. then let me do it. If you don't know how to reconcile the woman you grew up loving and the woman who ripped your soul in two then let me deal with Alpha Hale while you deal with her being your mom."

Stiles huffed a 'you're welcome' as Derek's arms tightened around his waist, pulling him closer to that glorious heat. Running his fingers along his wolf's arms his finger nail snags on a small tear in the sleeve.

"You're gonna have to stitch this up when we get home before you bulge out of it. One more beef cake pose is gonna shred this thing like the Hulk. " He pulls at the tear with a grin, "and as much as I'd love to see you shred your clothes a la Bruce Banner, I don't want the Deputies seeing your junk. That junk is mine and mine alone to ogle."

The shoulders beneath his wandering hands shake with Derek's laughter, straining beneath his fingertips as the wolf smiles and flexes his muscles in a classic body builder pose.

Stiles hums in appreciation, ducking his head to taste Derek's mouth as he runs his hands down that broad back. "Someone's been eating their Wheaties alright. Wait… do werewolves eat regular Wheaties or do you need a special kind of supernatural Wheaties? " he mumbles in between quick and hot kisses.

" Wait are there supernatural versions of brand name foods I've never heard about? Where would you buy that though? Is there some sort of Diagon Alley where you can buy werewolf cereal? A supernatural supermarket?"

He pulls away abruptly from the kiss, "Really? Is there?"

Derek leans back in for a kiss and smiles against his mouth. "Yes to the Market. No to the Wheaties. Most Wolves don’t like wheat. Not great fans of processed sugar either."

Stiles sits back stunned, "Hold up. First… yes to the supernatural supermarket? You are so taking me there, you know that right? Second, wolves don't like wheat?…. Wolves? Wheat? … they don't like it?"

Derek has to think quick to prevent Stiles from flailing right off his lap. "Not the shredded kind anyway. We lean towards more proteins for breakfast… meat, eggs that kind of thing." he sits back with a smirk, lifting Stiles easily further up his lap in a casual show of strength that has Stiles pretty turned on but he manages to soldier on with his thread of thought.

"And what about processed sugar? I've seen you eat a dozen donuts in one sitting… and that was just today. Your fru fru coffee is like 90% milk and sugar for cripe's sake."

"I didn't say that ALL wolves are not great fans. There's always an exception to the rule. In the end it works out, no one eats the cake so there's always more for me. And that cake is definitely not a lie."

"Sneakywolf" A wicked smile blossoms on Stiles face and he throws his arms around Derek's neck, claiming a hot and wet kiss from the beta. They're both breathing heavily when they finally pull away and Stiles sticks his finger through the hole in Derek's shirt sleeve .

"We still need to get this home and washed so we can sew it. A stitch in time saves nine."

Derek kisses the underside of Stiles neck, giving it a little nip that has Stiles' inner Alpha growling with pleasure. "Don't worry about the shirt. We can just swing by my apartment and pick up my spare uniforms."

Stiles froze, sitting back suddenly with a frown.

"Your apartment?... I thought you lived at the house?"

Derek furrowed his brows at Stiles' reaction.

"It's true that I spend most nights there, but you try living in a house with Hyper Alpha Laura and her whole kit 'n caboodle, Cora -the emotional black hole that every teenage girl turns into, with extra werewolf sprinkles on top of that and finally the smug lothario that is my uncle Peter. You'd go crazy if you didn't have your own space. Besides, when the family comes in I usually have to give up my space to my cousins so it was worth it to get a separate place."

Stiles blinks and bites his lip. "I can see that being a necessity. I just can't believe I never asked you about that. How could I not ask that? I just assumed that you lived at the great house. And you know what happens when you assume. That sucks."

"You make an ass of you in front of me? "Derek quipped with a small grin, "Hey, it's not a big deal."

"It kinda is. I'm an alpha and you're my mate. It's a pretty heavy instinct for me to wanna be in your space and to have you in mine. I haven't talked about it because I don't have right of entry for your family's den so I just satisfied myself with you being at dad's house. But now that I know you have a place of your own…" Stiles wiggled in Derek's lap, "… we can get all up in there and make the place smell like both of us."

Derek's irises flared as he inhaled deeply, pulling in the scent of Stiles arousal.

"There's nothing more we can do about the case until tomorrow." he nodded curtly, standing and setting Stiles gently on his feet. "… I think a stopover at the apartment is in order."

"Sir yes Sir" Stiles grinned with a jaunty salute, licking his lips. "I love it when you talk sheriff to me."

…………………………………………………………………….  
  


Derek leaves the cruiser at the station and they take a cab to the apartment, smiling coyly at Stiles' confusion.

"I own the building" Derek smirks as Stiles gapes at the large warehouse, pulling out a bunch of keys and letting them into the large front doors. The whole ground floor is garage space, clean and well lit, unlike the shady outer shell of the building.

"Wow" Stiles spun around, taking in everything. "And here I thought you lived in a coke den."

Derek laughs "This nieghbourhood is not the best. Development is slow and I don't want to put up a flag saying that here belongs to someone with money. So outside looks like everything else around here. And on the inside…"

He rips off a large tarp revealing the sexiest car Stiles had ever seen. Stiles eyes flash red at the black matte and gloss highlights and curves of the low slung vehicle.

"We are so having sex in that." he deadpans, "You will be driving."

"That's illegal you know." Derek chuckles at Stiles flat look at his words. "We'll come back to that . Come on… let me show you upstairs."

Stiles stifles a giggle and takes the wolf's hand, letting himself be pulled into the other man's side. The elevator is one of those slat wood ones with the heavy doors that all lofts should totally have. The doors open into a short hallway.

"The lift used to open right into the loft space, "Derek explains as he fishes out his keys, "No security whatsoever. I built most of these additions myself with help from my dad before I even thought about sleeping here."

"Wise." Stiles hummed. "Wouldn't want anyone just walking off the street while you were sleeping."

"Yeah I…" Derek froze as he stepped across the threshold, his head whipping around to stare further into the room. "Mom…?"

Stiles quickly slips in behind him and gets a face full of Chanel no.5 and the heavy smoke of an alpha wolf. It's almost as heady as the woman standing in the middle of the loft. She's beautiful and powerful with long brown hair that tumbled down her back. She has Laura's eye and Derek's cheekbones with Cora's pouty mouth. She's dressed in a smart charcoal pants suit and long black coat with her hands tucked in her pockets.

"You haven't been answering my calls Derek" her voice his dark and husky and all but thrums with power. Derek shrinks back with a small whimper. Stiles growls and steps in front of his mate, his lips curled.

"That's enough Mama Hale. You don't speak to my mate like that."

"I'm speaking to my son and a beta of my pack, skin walker…" she spat the last two words as if they burned her. "… and you will address me with respect demon."

Stiles rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yee-ah that's not gonna happen. I'm only calling you Mama Hale because of my boo here's sensitive nature. Be grateful I'm not calling what I call you in my head. I mean 'bond severing, gerbil fucking, cuntrazor' sounds even better out loud but it's a hassle if you have to say it all the time. Doesn't roll easily off the tongue you know?"

Her eyes blaze red and as she snarls, taking a step towards him and he smile is all teeth, letting his fangs drop as he bounces on his toes, ready for anything. A sudden rotting scent makes them all go still and Stiles snarls through his fangs as Alan Deaton calmly steps from Derek's bathroom, pulling on a pair of gloves.

"Let's not get carried away now" his serene tone scraping against Stiles ears like a rusty blades. "We agreed that we would try talking first, didn't we Talia?"

The alpha wolf visibly restrained herself, glaring at the druid. "I will not have my son with that … that thing" she hissed, turning to Derek, "Son, you will come with me now. As your mother I am asking you to come home with me."

"I'm sorry Mom" Derek shook his head and threaded his fingers through Stiles' clawed ones.

"Then as your Alpha, I am ordering you"

"Stiles is my Alpha." Derek flashing blue eyes were wet with unshed tears, "please understand… He's my soul mate."

"HE IS NOT YOUR SOULMATE!" she snarled though her fangs, making the beta jump. "I will never allow you to mate with this abomination."

"No, that you would not allow " Stiles said dryly, idly examining his claws, "instead you allow this tree fucker here and his merry band of chucklefucks try to break our bond all those years ago. You allow your son and his mate to experience unimaginable pain and suffering, You allow them to be damned to a waking hell on earth, having part of their souls ripped away by a freezing sucking darkness… is that what you ALLOW?"

He's shouting by the end of it, his rage boiling beneath his skin like acid. Talia steps back and Deaton steps forward as the rune on his skin starts to glow amber, turning a scorching white as he struggled not to lash out. At this distance he would surely hurt Derek as well and he WOULD NOT hurt his mate. Ever. He takes a deep breath, disgusted by the heightened stench of Deaton's roused interest.

"You claim to love Derek but you would rather break your son than let him be free."

Talia flinches. "And you claim to love him? Is whatever it is you are even capable of human love? You would damn him to a cursed life like your mother did to your father?"

"Lady you are one fucked up bitch, I mean really." Stiles growls, "I'm gonna refrain from ripping your forked tongue out of your mouth like I threatened to do to your mangy bitch of a daughter but I don't want to get your blood over Derek's shiny apartment because I fully intend to have sex with him over every horizontal surface and a few vertical ones and his cock gets all depressed and shit at the sight of inner organs becoming outer organs."

He backs up and to the side, pushing Derek away from the door as he gestures towards it.

"Get the fuck out before I make you."

Talia sneers "You think you can make us leave?"

Stiles looks at her and then at the druid, holding up a hand. A complicated rune glowed brightly in his palm. Deaton looks discomforted at the sight and Stiles grins.

"Try me."

Deaton turned to the Hale alpha and nodded his head for them to leave. Talia blinks in shock and scowled, glowering at Stiles as she let herself be guided out by a wary druid.

"This is not over." she hissed.

"You're right." Stiles eyes blazed red once more as he looked at them both. "I'm not even close to being done with you."

He closes the door in their faces, resting his forehead against the cool metal door until he could hear the whirr of the lift mechanism. Derek is curled against his back like a furnace, his caramel and musk drowning out the lingering stench of Deaton and the traces of smoke and Chanel.

He twisted in Derek's embrace and dragged the wolf down for a deep, seeking kiss.

"Thank you. I know how hard that was for you. She is your mother as well as your alpha. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you."

Stiles blinks away hot tears. He had secretly feared for so long that Derek would ultimately choose his family over his savaged bond, keeping that doubt tucked at the back of his mind. He'd seen how hard of a struggle it was for Derek who'd known nothing but Pack ever since he was born. For Derek to finally decide if being with Stiles was worth it in the end.

Derek brushed away the tears with a soft needy noise. "I will always choose you Stiles. Over everything and everyone else. You are my soul mate, severed bond or not. You are mine and I am yours. Never doubt that okay?"

Stiles sagged into Derek's chest and nodded. "Okay"

"Thank you… " Derek whispered against his hair" … I know it took a lot not to rip their faces off. Especially after she talked about your parents like that. You were very strong."

Stiles slipped his arms around Derek's waist.

"She was trying to provoke me." he confessed, " if I attacked her then she could claim that I did so unprovoked and Deaton could have used some kind of binding magic on me as her emissary. They could have killed me right here and claimed self-defense."

Derek stilled. "Fuck"

"Yeah" Stiles shrugged, pressing a quick kiss. "Let's get to it then."

Derek sputtered "To what? Sex?"

Stiles laughed, pulling out a small glass vial and a graffiti pen from his jacket pocket.

"As much as I can't wait to engage in sexy times with my sexywolf all over this place, especially in that cock tease on wheels you call a car; you had a fucking druid in your apartment for God knows how long. Who knows what that fucker did while they were waiting on us? As for them getting in here, Talia has spare keys right? I thought so. We are so getting the locks on your place changed tomorrow. "

He handed Derek the small vial and instructed him to get a bucket of water and a wash cloth then setting him to wipe every available surface down with the fragrant mixture while Stiles got busy drawing temporary runes all over the loft space.

Derek sighed as he got to work, "Dammit. Now my cock really is depressed."

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	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i got a new tablet because my PC broke down and this affected my writing. i will try to edit any spelling or grammar mistakes, lack of capitals etc but i may miss a few. ok then? let's go.

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Sleep is fitful and thankfully nightmare free and soon enough pale sunlight is crawling across the couch where they'd tumbled, fully clothed, after a couple of hours of cleansing Derek's loft of Deaton's super bad ju ju. Breakfast is standing in the open concept kitchen, drinking freshly brewed coffee while stretching out creaking necks and spines.

They share a shower, to save time of course, and Derek rummages through his closet for something for Stiles to wear, pulling out a forest green sweater with thumb holes that feels like heaven against the skin and a pair of dark chinos. Derek drops Stiles off to check with his Father and team and heads to the station.

Half the day passes chasing down leads, fielding calls from the press and reassuring the nervous public. Stiles spends a chunk of his day with John Rahway, arranging for arbitration in the case against Laura, which still sought federal justice in the matter without taking it to the courts. The only issue was getting a judge to preside who could be objective in the matter yet familiar with the supernatural.

By lunchtime Stiles felt antsy and shifty in his own skin so he pulled Jim aside, jerking his chin at Derek.

"I need to run." he said as they both joined him in the parking lot.

Jim nodded as Derek frowned. "I can't go with... it's still too hectic here."

Stiles nodded, slapping a hand to Derek's broad shoulder. "I understand. I was just gonna make the rounds out to the crime scene, see what I may have missed the first time."

"Not by yourself your not." Jim growled at Stiles put upon expression, "... you're not going traipsing into the Forest of Death and Blood by yourself. Not while i'm still your second."

As Stiles flails in bewilderment at Jim's words; Derek nods, crossing his arms across his muscular chest. He looks like he sucked a lemon as he glowers at them both.

"As much as i hate to say it, I agree with Longworth. Someone out there is targeting you. Until we know who it is and what they are capable of, you are not going anywhere alone. It's the Buddy system from here on out Stilinski. Non-negotiable."

Stiles sputters indignantly, "You are not the boss of me dude, you can't just decide that for me."

Derek sighs, "I may not be Alpha but I am your mate and right now i'm fighting every wolf instinct I have to just take you to my den and keep you there. You have to meet me half way here babe."

Jim nods. "Hale's right boss. Until we know where the Brights are and have a clue to what is happening with you, it would be a dereliction of my duty as your second to not have your six."

"Fine" Stiles huffed. He gently poked Derek in the chest, " But you can't run alone either. Take Reyes or Boyd with you. They look like thy could use the release."

Derek ducked his head. "They may not want to. They're part of Hale pack."

"Bullshit" Jim snorts and Derek's snaps up with a low growl. "... those two pups are yours through and through. They just haven't approached Stiles because things are not settled with Talia yet. When you go, not if, but when you go they will go with you and you know it."

Derek bares his teeth in irritation at Jim's tone and finally huffs, pecking a kiss to Stiles' cheek and turning on a heel to stalk back into the station without another word.

Stiles stares after him, watching as he disappears through the glass doors before turning to Jim.

"What the seven hells dude?" he flails, tossing the keys to Jim as he slides into the shot gun seat. Jim starts the car and it's ten minutes into the drive before he breaks the tense silence.

"Some wolves just need get over themselves." Jim grits out as they pull up unto the forest road. "He needs grow the fuck up and do it soon if he' to be the kind of Second you need."

stiles gapes. "Wait what?"

Jim screeches to a stop long the edge of the forest they get out. The high trees block the bright sunlight and makes the forest floor a mess of moving shadows. The forest calls to Stiles and he feels his jackal writhe in anticipation.

He puts hand on Jim's shoulder to stop him from shifting immediately.

"All i can think about is running right now but believe me when i say that we will be talking about that utter bullshit you just said okay?"

Jim grunts a fine and shifts to his beautiful dark brown wolf. Stiles feels his shift pulling at him but has enough wherewithal to knee next to the wolf and sink his fingers into the thick pelt. His voice is growly but he speaks carefully and slowly, catching the wolf's blue stare.

"Derek may be alpha mate but you will always be my second. My good strong beta. Understand?"

The brown wolf finally gives a nod and Stiles bears his teeth in a devilish grin.

"Good. Now catch me if you can old man"

He shifts mid stride and soon all that can be heard on the wind is the whisper of their passing.

 

,.....................

 

The wind sings against his ears as his pumping legs eat up the distance between him and the horizon, muscles pumping in sync with his racing heart. His foot falls are a silent against the dried leaves and fallen branches of the forest, dappled light dancing through the leaves of monstrous trees. The air is crisp and sweet and it stings his nose and tongue as he fills his lungs.

This is freedom, he thinks, catching a flash of dark brown pelt as it flashed from shadow to shadow made by the old growth of the deep forest. He feels looser than he has in months, finally able to run just for the hell of it. To pick a direction and just go. To sink into his shift and lose himself in the motions... If just for a little while.

Animals had fewer needs, jackals even more so and in the years since his choosing ritual, Stiles had come to appreciate his canine counterpart and the way his thinking, no, his entire mentality changed while in this form. In fact, it was only when the focused and observant traits of his shift bled over to his human side, that the last symptoms of ADHD he'd suffered as a teen had been suppressed.

Despite the struggle for control he'd suffered when he'd first started out, his finely honed survival instinct and other shift traits had saved his life on several occasions and had gotten his team out of a sticky situation or two.

A twig snaps in the distance and he turns away sharply, putting distance between him and the sound. He is not looking for confrontation now… no. there was only the sweet burn of the run. The brown wolf at his side matches him turn for turn, ducking through shadow and light like a wraith.

Seconds later he catches a blur in the corner of his eye and before he can react, a heavy body collides with his, sending them both tumbling into a small clearing. He's up with teeth bared, facing the threat by the time he hears Jim's deep growl at his flank.

A large wolf rolls to its feet with a snarl to face them, muscles rippling under cream and brown fur. It's eyes are beta gold as it growls at them and several other golden eyed wolves emerge from the forest behind it. It looks on the cusp of adulthood, no longer a cub yet not fully matured.

Stiles chuffs in annoyance. Hales, and worse? Teenage Hales.

He gives the bristling wolf a flat stare and shakes like a wet dog to loosen up his muscles, mentally gaging his and Jim's choices. He can take them, in his shifted or his human form. With Jim by his side these younger shifters don't stand a chance. But taking them out quickly enough not to get overwhelmed would mean using lethal force and although he'd have a strong case for self-defense, he didn't want to kill some dumb kids who didn't know better than to challenge an alpha.

The young beta steps forward, teeth bared.

::Anger:: Territory :: Pack :: Intruder :: Stiles smells on the wind.

Mentally rolling his eyes he plopped his butt on the grass and let his tongue hang out.

:: Disinterest :: Exasperation :: Boredom ::

Jim stepped up to his side with a careful baring of his wicked sharp teeth.

:: Hostility :: Anticipation :: Excitement :: Prey ::

The young wolf's step falters at the dynamic.

:: Confusion :: Doubt ::

As one the wolves turn sharply to the forest at a soft sound. Stiles feigns disinterest, idly snapping at a butterfly flapping around his snout as he'd already caught and recognized the scent of the newcomer moments before.

Heath Hale steps out from behind a tree in his usual ninja way that have all of the wolves starting in surprise. Stiles snorts, plopping down unto his belly and crossing his forepaws. Heath grins mischievously in response as he causally makes his way to the young wolf's side.

"When I said to go let off some of that youthful energy Caden, I meant go for a good run in the reserve… I didn't mean for you to nearly throw down with a strange alpha. How am I supposed to tell your parents that you all got ripped to shreds in our own back yard?"

Several of the wolves hunch in on themselves as one of the braver ones shifts to human with a pout. "But... Uncle heath... that's the ... that's the guy. the one well... you know."

Heath gave her a flat stare, encompassing the rest of the cowering betas in a way that made Stiles kinda envious of the skill with which he made them all slump lower under it's weight.

"The guy? Are you kidding me? It seems to me that if you're not mature enough to even say it, you're sure as shit not old enough to do anything about it.?"

He crosses his arms and glowers down at the large wolf cowering next to him.

"You eavesdrop on adult conversations and think you're the big bad wolf. That you could take down the Evil 'Skin Walker' your parents whisper about? That somehow YOU can do what older and wiser wolves can't or won't? you must have though that maybe you could gang up on him in the woods and take him down right? I mean... who would blame you right? Right?"

The young wolves shuffle nervously.

"WRONG." Heath snarled, making them whimper. "This isn't some random shifter. This alpha could have KILLED you if he wanted. He could have ripped you apart and your pack would have had no right to retaliate because it would have been ruled self defense. Not to mention that he's a fucking federal agent. Whoever survived the attack could have faced time in behind bars. Our pack would have landed right in the government's cross hairs and they'd have us in cages before the dust even settled. Is that what you wanted?"

The older Hale pulls in a deep breath, closing his eye briefly as if praying for patience.

"Go home. we will deal with you later." He finally sighed, falling silent as the chastised young wolves slunk into the trees. He turns towards a watchful Stiles and wary Jim and gives them careful nod.

"Alpha Stilinski. Beta. Forgive this trespass. The younger ones too often let their primal instinct rule them when it comes what they perceive as their territory."

At Stiles' answering nod, he slips away between the trees like the creepy ninjawolf he was and Stiles and Jim exchange commiserating glances before shrugging and setting off once again, this time, in the opposite direction of the Hales.

As Stiles ran, he mined the memory of that confrontation for nuggets of insight. So, the Hales had been discussing him within the pack. Maybe Talia had come clean about her actions with the soul bond or the Hales thought stiles was just a skin thief trying to sink his claws into the Hales through a hapless Derek. Whatever the case may be, they had discussed a direct attack, eventually ruling it out because of the legal and shifter community repercussions.

That didn't mean that they couldn't take the matter to a higher court, a magical one.

Stiles stopped dead in the forest, Jim yelping as he pulled up next to him.

Magical court. That's what they were planning. Seeking a higher judgment that human laws permitted. Stiles tilted his head in puzzlement. How did they plan to get away with it though?. Supernatural courts looked down even more harshly on bond interference than humans did. How could Talia hope to win?

Jim nuzzled Stiles side and reluctantly the alpha set his spinning thoughts aside and began to run again, soon slipping into a steady loping pace that calmed his hectic thoughts. He had enough time to think of those things back in the two leg world.

For now he would run.

...........................................................................

 

"What is it with this place and scent blocking?" Stiles grumbled as he struggled to breathe through his mouth, his face twisted in disgust at the stench. Across the clearing Jim gives him a glare from where he squatted, a pristine white handkerchief pressed over his nose and mouth.

Their run had taken them through to the edges of Hale territory, the tree growth getting more dense; blocking out more and more sunlight. It was only when they jumped into a small dried clearing in the middle of the lush green forest that the smell staggered them. They'd shifted without a second thought, searching for a crime scene, anything that could smell so much like death warmed over.

The clearing was unnaturally dry, the ground cracked and arid. A weird dark red moss covered ragged patches, the colour of dried blood saturating the plants. A large tree stump dominated the centre of the space, its thick roots permeating the ground for yards upon years, in some places as big as an fully grown man. The countless tree rings telling of the awe inspiring age of the tree that once stood in that space.

Stiles looks up at the gaping hole in the tree canopy then back to the weirdly flat stump.

"Is it the moss?" Jim asks, "I can't find any blood."

"It's the magic. It's decaying." Stiles frowns, rubbing some of the deep red moss between his fingertips then dusting them off."There's something happening to the Nemeton."

"What could affect the ley lines like this? Aren't they pretty hardy magically."

"Only if they are guarded and maintained properly" Stiles spat,"What the hell were the Hales thinking? This is Hale territory, they should not have let it get this bad. Even Deaton, evil little fucktard that he is, should not have let it come to this. He's a fucking druid for fuck's sake. They love trees and shit."

He turned to Jim. " We need to get back. I need to make some calls. Get to the bottom of this."

He pauses at Jim's wide eyed stare over his shoulder. "Stiles, turn around slowly" the beta hisses through clenched teeth. Stiles follows his instructions and gapes as well.

A small blue flame is hovering right over his shoulder, close enough that he could feel the gentle warmth it exuded.

"What the hell is that?" Jim stage-whispered as the small flame bobbed mid air.

Stiles lifts a hand, amazed as the small blue flame settles into his palm and got all cozy. The warmth spread through his hand was like holding a cup of hot chocolate and Stiles smiles softly.

"Hey there little guy. You're kinda far from home aren't you? What are you doing out here in the big forest huh?"

"Boss?" Jim's voice is warm against the back of his neck, "What is that thing?"

"It's a blue cap." Stiles explains, "but they are usually found in mines... underground places. I don't understand how it could be here. There's no underground here. Maybe the Nemeton drew it here?"

Jim shrugs, running quick fingers through the tiny flame, hissing as his werewolf nature kicked in, healing the the burns on his fingertips.

"Or maybe there's a cave."

Stiles tilts his head thoughtfully, letting the flame float free. They watched in silence as it bobbed around for a while, finally dipping lower and lower, alighting on a mound of dirt near the stump that turned out to be the well hidden door to some kind of cellar.

Jim tested the over sized rusty lock but even with his shifter strength it wouldn't break. Stiles stopped him before he tried kicking it in, sensing odd magic woven within the door's frame.

"Leave it. We need to get back" he said, watching as the small blue flame slipped between a gap in the door, disappearing into the darkness below, "We can open this can of worms another day..."

He took one last look at the desolate space and shuddered

"... Preferably with a full coven and a swat team."

.....................

Stiles doesn't get to have that talk with Jim because as soon as they are back within cell range TK calls.

"Got something for you Bossman." that honey voice warms Stiles and shakes free the last of the dread that settled in him from seeing the Nemeton. He'd been so concerned with his dad, he'd hadn't even thought about checking on it. He'd just assumed that the Hales and Deaton had been doing right by the sacred grove.

He mentally slapped himself upside the head. That's what you get for assuming Stilinski.

"What's up foxy?" he grinned, putting the tech genius on speaker phone.

Taiki gave a small whine. "You're not going to like it. I just know it. It's going to make you guys all growly and i don't like when my men are growly."

"Give it to me straight TK, you know I like to just rip the band aid off." stiles shares a wry grin with Jim'

"They found some bones."

Jim straightens up. "Another child?" he asks as Stiles stands pale and oh so still.

"No." TK assures and Stiles can breath again." An old woman, according to the Las Vegas ME. Found in a hotel room, almost burnt to a crisp in the marble bathtub of the Bellagio penthouse suite. Strange thing is that tests show the bones to be close to a hundred years old and the couple who booked the room were young, late thirties."

"Interesting as this is TK," Jim cocks a brow, "what dos it have to do with us?"

"Well..." TK draws out the word, "...they managed to identify the body through dental records and it pinged here at special branch as a POI. The bones belong to Constance Melder Brightman."

Stiles exhales sharply as Jim curses blue.

Connie Bright was dead. That was good.

Eugene Bright was still alive. That was not so good.

Euegene bright was both criminally insane and a genius.

That was really really not so good.

Eugene Bright had also loved his wife very much... very, very much.

Fugene bright was not a forgiving man. Not at all.

Stiles let his head fall back with a deep sigh.

So much for the sweet serenity of the run.

"I'm so very fucked."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is extra long and postings are going to slow down after this chapter because I'm at the end of the pre-written chappies. i will start updating once a week or so from now on.
> 
> Warning: Mentions of sex. not too explicit but somebody is getting some.  
> Also Mentions of Sexual Harassment and Gay Bashing because Rafael McCall is a 24hour asshole.

..........................................................

Stiles is half sitting at the edge of the situation room's large conference table when his phone buzzes, tearing his attention away from where Clem and Jim are pinning up details of the Connie Bright crime scene in Las Vegas. He glances absently at the phone screen and frowns at the three missed calls from Scott time stamped during his earlier run and a call me request that says just now.

He hits speed dial with a grin. "Dude… you need to stop texting in caps only. I feel like you're shouting at me or something. We've talked about this."

"I am shouting at you Bro. i called you like a million times. Didn't you get my messages?" Scott rambles nervously, hardly taking a breath between words. "My mom called me because your dad called her because a friend of his always calls him with a heads up anytime it happens.

"Wait… what… whose dad? My Dad?"

"Your dad." Scott groans, the muffled sound of his head hitting a desk can be heard over the line. "He gets a heads up whenever he's coming to town."

"My dad gets the heads up? Okay. But who's coming to town again?"

The head thumping stops. Scott sounds like a man facing his execution.

"My dad."

"Your dad?" Stiles chokes, making Jim and Derek turn sharply to watch him, no doubt listening in shamelessly to the conversation. "Rafael McCall is coming to the Hills?"

The dull thumping starts again and Stiles feels a bit sorry for Scott's poor abused forehead. Noise from the doorway has him twisting on his perch, eyes widening as he recognizes the man standing there with a smug smirk that Stiles, even as a child, always wished he could drop kick off that handsome face.

"Guess who just waltzed into the station?" Stiles sing songs under his breath, twisting back off the table.

"My dad?" Scott's voice was almost a whisper. Stiles made an affirming noise.

"Pick up your mom after her shift, head over to dad's. I'll call you later."

"Do you think he'll try to see us?" Scott's tone goes flat like it does when he'd really angry.

"I'll find out. Don't freak out on me dude. Just go to dad's. Stay there until I call ok?"

At Scott's grudging affirmation, Stiles hangs up, slipping the phone into his pocket as he takes a deep calming breath and spins to face the door way.

"Mr. McCall…" he crosses his arms over his chest. "… to what do we owe the pleasure?"

Rafael McCall smiles and it was anything but warm, his perfect white teeth reminding Stiles of a crocodile. His suit was pricey but still off the rack and his thousand dollar shoes were scuffed.

He'd always been a man who sought to squeeze the best of life and then paid no mind to how he treated his possessions. For much of Stiles' life and for much of their epic friendship, Scott and Melissa had been Rafael's 'possessions' and he hadn't treated them very well either.

"That's Agent McCall of the FBI to you Stilinski. Say hello to the federal liaison to this case."

Derek frowned as he put out a hand to shake. "Sheriff Hale. Thank you for coming Agent McCall but I thought that they were sending someone from the BAU to help us with the profile?"

McCall gives Derek a blatant once over before shaking the offered hand, making his deputies growl low in their chests as Stiles curls his hands into fists to keep his temper down and his emerging claws unseen. That mocking grin that Stiles remembered so well made Stiles just want to pistol whip the man and be done with it.

"The Bureau decided that the Special Agents of the BAU would be better suited to more high profile cases and should not be wasted with back woods small town cases like these. Besides, I'm sure that a dynamic agency such as Fish and Wildlife will have the situation under control in a timely manner."

"Wasted?" Derek barked a harsh mirthless laugh, "This 'back woods' town has a serial killer on its hands Agent. Someone is out there killing children. If the FBI did not send you here to help us with the profile then why are you here?"

"Truth be told, Cartwright Titus has ties with the big wigs in Washington so he made a call and here I am. In fact, the only reason I'm here is to escort the Bureau's forensic expert who is going to be taking over the investigation from Doctor Sorel. He was very interested in what you local yokels had stumbled across."

"But you see, for all the genius he is, he is also a very dangerous man and the boys upstairs don't want him walking around without a handler. Sort of like a prison work furlough, where prisoners are put to work so that they can repay their debt to society … isn't that right Agent Cozier? How is Mr. Rahway anyway? I heard he's got himself a cushy job in Special Branch with you. We sure to miss him back at the bureau. He was always so very eager to please. So very …attentive."

Jim hand snaps up to rest at the back of Coz's neck and is the only thing keeping the dark skinned man from lunging at the smirking agent. Instead, Coz lets out a ragged breath and turns on his heel, slowly walking out of the room's other door, no doubt in search of his bond mate. Jim goes with him and Clem steps closer to Stiles in turn. Reyes and Boyd shuffle closer to Derek and Parrish shakes his head with disgust from behind McCall's back.

"Boss" Parrish looks to Derek. "Where can they set up the portable ME's office. Doc Sorel is outside with the Federal ME."

Derek shares a long look with Stiles then escorts McCall out, followed by the deputies. As he and Clem find themselves alone in the SitRep room, Stiles slumps into a nearby chair, dropping his head into his hands.

"Shit."

Clem hops up unto the table before him. "Friend of yours?"

Stiles leans back to look at her and she tilts her head to the side with bright and curious eyes.

He rubbed the back of his hand across his lips in contemplation, before finally speaking.

"He's Scott's dad.

She raises an eyebrow. "I thought I recognized the name. Not too much resemblance though."

"Thank God for that. " Stiles chuckles darkly. "Scotty gets most of his looks from his mom. Most of his better traits too. He's stubborn like his dad though."

Stiles shifts again, leaning forward to study his palms. Clem waits silently for her alpha.

"He didn't hit them or anything like that. He got drunk sometimes but he never hit them. I mean… why use your fists when words cut so much deeper right?"

Stiles watched as a claw pushed out and withdrew on each finger on his hand in turn.

"He had Scotty messed up for years when we were young. Had Melissa too brow beaten to even know which way was up. He could twist your own words back to hurt you, cut you deep with just a few phrases. It wasn't until we were almost ten that they were able to get out from under him."

"How did they manage?" Clem asked softly.

"My Mom…" Stiles swallowed heavily, "Just before she got sick, she and my Dad got Scotty and Melissa out from under him and chased him out of town. A few years later he came back to town to contest the Melissa's divorce petition and make trouble but Dad was Sheriff by then so he got him kicked out of the Hills.

Dad can be pretty scary when he wants to be. Of course, word got back to the Bureau somehow and he his career tanked, lost whatever upward mobility he could have ever achieved. they will never promote him to anything higher than he is now. He blamed my family for it all, he even thought my dad and Melissa had been having an affair."

"Were they?" Clem looked at him from behind her hair.

Stiles leaned back into the chair with a frown. "The only reason I'll let that question slide is because for the longest time both Scotty and I wished they'd both get together but the answer is no. They were never together. My Dad would never cheat on my Mom or date a married woman and Melissa didn't get her divorce finalized until a couple of years ago. By then it was too late to try for something more."

"Thank you for telling me. " Clem slips off the table and lays a hand in Stiles shoulder. He smiles up at her and sighs.

"Thanks for listening."

She smiles that monalisa smile. "I'm always here when you're ready to talk."

He lays a hand over hers. "So am I."

She falters a bit then nods and he breathes a sigh of relief.

"Well, at least nothing worse can happen today right?"

The smiles drops off her face as she gives him an icy glare. His head drops back against the chair.

"Ah fuck, I've just gone and jinxed us haven't I?" he groans and she pulls him up out of the chair and through the conference room door.

The portable ME's office is being set up in the small parking lot to the back of the station. Workers mill around setting up security lights and hooking up the generators, looking busy as bees in the hot California sun.

Erica is following Doc Sorel around like a excited puppy while a surly looking Derek and Boyd stand with McCall and a shorter man dressed in black with his back facing both Stiles and Clem. Derek catches his eye and gives a subtle eye roll, no doubt as 100% done with Rafael McCall as Stiles is and Stiles chortles softly.

"Try not to rip out his throat… with your teeth" he murmurs, knowing it will carry on the wind to the wolf's sensitive hearing. Soon enough Derek is huffing a breath and Boyd is coughing into his fist.

McCall turns slightly, gesturing at some of the workers and the man turns, nodding his agreement and Stiles hears Clem hiss a breath beside him. He turns to her as her hand comes up to grab his arm tightly, her fingertips digging into his flesh. Her lips are pulled back from her teeth in a silent snarl and her eyes narrow with undisguised hatred.

"Clem?" he stepped halfway in front of her so that she would look at him instead. He can already feel Jim and Coz moving towards their location, sending concern through the pack bonds. "Hey Clementine. Come back to me."

At that moment Doc Sorel sees them and hails, walking toward them with a smile.

"Agent Stilinski, Agent Chausser. I want to you meet the Forensics expert sent in by the FBI. Hopefully he will be able to get to the bottom of this dark business. I'd like to present to you Dr. Johann Pryce."

She gestures to the man in black and he steps forward with a tight smile.

"I look forward to working with you Agent Stilinski. I've heard a lot about your work in certain circles… "

He turns to look at Clem and Stiles tenses as her fingertips dig deeper into his arm. By this time, Coz and Jim are at their backs, ready enough to shed blood at the first attack to their pack mate. The man's smile widens and Stiles thinks of a great white shark.

"… and you Dr. Chausser… It has been a long time has it not?"

Clem flushes pale and cold, her mouth a line of white.

"Eternity would not be long enough Pryce."

The ensuing silence is heavy and thick, even the sun seems colder, the wind harsher. A loud clap breaks the spell and makes everyone start. Rafael McCall smiles widely as he looks at them all.

"I'm certain that we are all going to get along like the best of friends don't you?"

He stalks off, pulling Doc Sorel and Pryce over to inspect the completed lab, Erica warily trailing after them and Stiles lets out a sigh. He looks over at stone faced Clem with a pout.

"Ok…do it. You know you want to."

She gives him a withering look and slaps him upside the head, the wolves and Coz gaping after her in shock for striking the alpha as she stalks back into the station. Stiles shakes his head to calm them.

"Don't worry about it. I deserved it for jinxing us a few minutes ago."

"What the hell was that?" Derek jerks his head in Pryce's direction.

"Yeah" Coz frowns, "I've never seen our girl lose her cool for anyone like that."

"I don't know but I aim to find out." Stiles looks at Jim, "Get TK to dig up everything we can about Johann Pryce, even the stuff that's redacted. Also… get me a work up on McCall too. Last time I knew the man he was just Scotty's asshole father. Now he's Agent McCall and I don't want him fucking things up for us because of some hidden agenda."

"You think he's here to make trouble." Derek scowled.

"I wouldn't put it past him" Stiles murmured, " What other reason would he have for taking a glorified baby sitter's job? He's up to something, I just know it. Hey guys, Don't push our girl to talk. Just be there to listen if she needs it. I think that’s the most important thing right now okay?"

He pull the keys from his pocket. "I need to talk to Scott and Melissa. They should be at my Dad's house by now."

"I'll come with you. Buddy system remember?" Derek's hand is warm on his shoulder and Stiles gives him a grateful smile.

"Thanks Boo."

................................................................  
  


He hated seeing Mama McCall like this. Nervous and fretful, hands and eyes flitting about as she made herself busy in the Stilinski kitchen. A worried whispered conversation with Scott painted a clearer picture of her mental state at hearing her nightmare ex was back in town so Stiles made sure that she could hear him coming as he stepped into the kitchen.

"Hey Mama" he greeted softly as he hugged her from behind. She started, nevertheless, tensing for a frozen second before slumping a bit in Stiles arms. Seconds later Scott's octopus arms enveloped them causing both Stiles and Melissa to groan playfully as he gave them a squeeze.

"Ribs Scotty, Ribs" Stiles yelped, breathing deeply as Scott released them and hopped up on the counter next to Melissa. He frowned as she refused to meet his eyes, sharing a worried look with Scott over her head at her uncharacteristic silence.

"Mom?" Scott whined softly.

Melissa plastered on a fake and brittle smile. "It's fine. I'm fine. Really I'm okay. You don't need to worry about little old me. This is nothing. Really."

"It's not nothing." Stiles tilted her chin up to look at him. "We're worried about you."

She reached up and took his hand, holding it's warmth to her chilled cheek. "You have so much to worry about now Stiles. With the Hales and the murders. Rafe is just a man. I'll get over it."

"A man who hurt you and made you feel unsafe is now walking the streets of this town once again. It doesn't matter what else we have going on. It's our right to be worried about you. It's also your right to freak the fuck out about this. It's okay to be not okay you know."

Melissa huffed a bitter laugh. " Stop using pop psychology on me Stiles."

He tilts his head with a rueful smile. "Doesn't make it less true though."

She blinked rapidly as if willing away tears and Scott presses closer to her side with a soft whine. Her admission is soft and tremulous and it hurts Stiles to hear.

"I'm scared." she wipes her cheeks quickly and leans into Scott. "I'm terrified of what he might do to me… to Scott… to Janek. He's always looks for the soft spots, the exposed flesh he can dig into to cause to most pain. With so many things going on right now, we're so vulnerable Stiles."

Stiles slips off the counter and crowds into her other side, his and Scott's arms enclosing her as she cried softly. He buries his nose in her hair, breathing in her scent. Melissa had come through so much over the years, taken her son and herself out from under an tyrant, put herself through nursing school and raised her son to be a better man than his father's example. Rebuilt her very sense of self and life after years of systematic emotional abuse.

She stood with him and Scott at Claudia's funeral, lending her strength as Janek still reeled from the loss of his bonded mate. The nights of unplanned sleepovers and holding as he screamed for his mother. Dragging Janek kicking and screaming from the bottom of a bottle as she instructed a struggling, fumbling Stiles how to do laundry and make simple meals at the stove without burning himself. She'd clawed her way into a healthy normal life, dragging them all with her and for that Stiles would be eternally grateful.

He and Scott exchanged another look over her head as she settled into soft sniffles and nodded. They were in complete agreement. Rafael McCall would not hurt his family again if they had anything to do about it.

……………………………………………………

It took Derek's blunt honesty, Stiles' pleading and finally Melissa's earnest, teary eyed request to get Janek to stop trying to get out of his bed and run over McCall with Derek's cruiser. After settling him back in bed under Sheila's and Melissa's watchful eyes with numerous promises to keep him informed of the goings on; Stiles and Scott collapsed in a pile unto the couch as Derek got them drinks from the kitchen.

"I hate this. I hate him" Scott confessed in a low voice. "I hate what he did to us. What he did to Mom… what he did to me. It hate him so much it feels like a stone in my chest I can't get rid of. It's heavy and it hurts."

His breath stutters as Stiles wraps his arms and his legs around his brother in all but blood and pulls his head to rest on his chest.

"Worst of all, I hate that I still bear his name after all this time. It's like he still has a mark on us like we're branded as his property or something."

Derek comes into the room to see them tangled on the couch, setting a couple bottles on water on the table and a cold beer. He smacks Stiles hand away from the beer and hands it to Scott, then hands a pouting Stiles one of the waters. Taking a seat nearby, he cracks open the other water and smirks as the two dorks on the couch try to drink in their positions without making a mess.

"Why haven't you changed your name?" he asked gently.

Scott shrugged. "The divorce took forever and by the time it was finalized Mom had already gotten her degree. I was just about done with college and getting our names changed would have taken longer and been more expensive than we could handle. We thought we had more time, with Papa Stilinski chasing the asshole out of town like that."

Stiles huffed. "That and we thought our parents were going to get married anyway and Scott and Melissa would be Stilinskis so what would be the use."

"Now though… " Scott took a gulp of the beer, "… I think it's time we broke free from him for good. As far as I'm concerned the only good thing that man did for me was give his sperm."

Stiles choked on his water. "Shit Scotty. Warn a guy. Geez"

Scott shook his head and drained the beer, his voice deep with heavy emotion.

"He liked to tell me that the only reason I was around was because the fucking condom broke and that best thing he ever did for me was to come in my mother. I was four."

Stiles pulled his brother's head back onto his chest and tightened both his arms and legs around him again.

"You never told me about that." he all but hissed into Scott's hair. "I'll kill him. I'll hunt him down and beat him like a snake. I can make a body disappear like that."

He snaps his fingers for emphasis. " There are parts of the deep woods where people get lost forever. You just say the word okay?"

"Agreed" Derek nods slowly. "Lots of people go into the woods and never come back out. For all we know he could be mauled by bears or a passing mountain lion. You never know."

Scott gives a wet chuckle and looks at Derek. "You're good people Hale. I'm glad you and Stiles found each other again. Sorry I threw my inhaler at you that day."

Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles' bark of laughter and looks at Scott with a smile.

"Forgiven."

 ………………………………………………………………….  
  


Gordon Cozier had never seen himself as a good man, a great thief yes… an excellent taker of things … but he had just never seen goodness in himself like he'd seen in his late mother. Or the charismatic minister from his old Caribbean neighborhood who'd been stabbed to death by gang members. Or his brilliant sister before a boyfriend hooked her on drugs and left her a junkie. He'd seen what being good did to people he loved and had made sure to avoid that path in life as much as he could.

He wasn't a wicked man per say, he just wasn't a good one. But he never let himself too deep into the game to be unredeemable though, especially not with the words 'We good brother?" written in barely discernible chicken scratch over his left shoulder blade.

For a long time the only salvation in his fucked up life was that somewhere out there his soul mate awaited, the deep desire to earn that one chance… that one shot of happiness burned on his back like a brand.

All that had changed when he met John Rahway during a bank job gone bad. He'd been pinned in a crossfire between private security and police, abandoned by his job mates, hunkered down behind a dumpster, cursing his shitty luck.

Just then, the getaway car sped up the alley in reverse, the door flying open in front of him. Without a second thought, Gordon had jumped into the passenger seat and they were off.

The driver, a skinny white kid who was the second cousin (whatever removed) of the inside man had looked him over with dazzling baby blue eyes as they made their fast and furious getaway.

"We good, brother?"

Gordon stilled, eyes widening as he stopped checking himself for gunshot wounds and stared back at the kid's earnest face and generous mouth. He chuckled ruefully and slumped back against the seat with a grin.

"All signs point to it."

The kid just laughed and laughed.

Those same dazzling blue eye look up in concern now as Coz eases his way into his mate's temporary legal office. There hadn't been any space at the station so he'd been assigned a spare office in Beacon Hills City Hall. Large picture windows let in the bright California sunlight and back lit John's desk, making the minuscule space seem much larger. Coz leaned against the closed door with a sigh, drinking in the sight of his soul mate surrounded by neat piles of legal briefs and manila folders.

John's grey suit jacket was draped over the back of his chair, his lean and toned arms flexing under his blue dress shirt that brought out the forget me not blue of his eyes. He'd been chewing on his pencils like he always did and his pink lips were a bit swollen. Heat swelled in Coz's gut as blue eyes searched his with some concern.

"G? Everything okay? I felt your frustration earlier. What's up?"

John stood, walking around the desk to stand in front of his mate. His hands settled against Coz's chest, smoothing the soft cotton of his shirt. Coz brought his hands around John's waist and pulled the man flush against him, his right palm settling on John's pert ass, right over where his first words sprawled in neat cursive on the underside of John ass cheek. John moaned as Coz gave his ass a squeeze and leaned in for a hot wet kiss that had them both panting when they finally parted.

Coz trailed a daisy chain of kisses and licks down John's neck as the younger man threw his head back with a bitten off moan and a jerk of his hips. John's hands slipped over his shoulder, palm pressing against Coz's soul mark that sent a shudder through the older man as he claimed his mate's mouth once again.

As they parted once again to ease their straining lungs, Coz pivoted, turning them both so that he could press his mate against the office door, absently noting the way John's hand scrambled against the wood and the unmistakable 'slock click' of a door locked being flipped.

Soon enough John's hands were on his back again, one leg coming up to wrap around Coz's hip as he cupped John's sweet ass with both hands, grinding their dicks together in that delicious way that had them both biting back moans.

"God, I want to be in you right now" Coz all but growled into his soul mate's ear. John pulled back with a breathy laugh, his face flushed and his pupils blown wide.

"That's why I locked the door."

Coz jerked his head towards the windows, "Won't anyone see us?"

"Were up high enough. Building next door's abandoned. No one to see..." John gave him a wicked grin that always made him just want to drop to his knees and suck the other man's cock. "…unless you want them to see?"

"Do you want them to see?" John wiggled his hips playfully as he nipped at Coz's neck. "…To see you spread me over my own desk and stick you cock in me? … to ride me hard until I'm begging to come? You want them all to see your pretty mate on display… to see me fucked deep by that big black cock? To see me fucked so good I can't even remember my own name? Is that what you want baby?"

"Yes, yes." Coz growled, walking them both over to the desk, knocking files and papers off the wooden surface.

The sex is rough and oh so hot and they never fully undress but the desk is cool against their heated skin as they slumped, shivering through the aftershocks and gasping for breath. The sound of his mate's shuddering breaths and the sight of his words against John's well fucked ass makes his spent cock twitch and he runs his fingertips against the cursive lines. John starts, shivering at the feather light touch, his blue eyes blazing as he looks back at Coz over his shoulder.

"We good Brother?" he pants with a shy grin.

Coz smiles and presses several kisses to the small of his back, running his hands along the expanse of warm skin.

"All signs point to it."

They redress in comfortable silence, light touches and soft kisses. John pries open the windows to let the office air out the smell of sex as Coz picks up the loose papers that had been swept to the floor without care. Hopping up to sit on the desk, John pulled Coz to stand between his knees with chaste kiss.

He hummed into the kiss happily and pulled away with a smile. "You never answered my question Dark chocolate, not that I didn't this surprise afternoon delight immensely… but what's going on G? I felt such anger across the bond earlier. Was it another death?"

Gordon opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He cupped John's cheeks in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. John's hands came up to hold his wrists. He twisted his head to kiss Gordon's palms.

"Talk to me Sweetheart… you're making me very concerned here."

Gordon took and deep breath. "What do you know of Rafael McCall?"

John froze, jerking his face away from his mate's hand and Gordon's heart sinks.

John looks away and blinks rapidly. "He's… he's FBI. He was an SSA with Counterintelligence until he got busted down to Operational Technology a while back. They worked closely with Criminal Justice from time to time so I'd seen him around the water cooler."

John shrugs evasively, avoiding Gordon's eyes and it takes everything Coz has in him to keep calm as he feels fear and shame flutter across the soul bond. He gently tips John's chin up to look as him and the fragile look in those blue eyes cracks something cold and brittle within him.

"Talk to me baby blue" he said gently, "He asked about you today, he knew me as your soul mate. Tried to get a rise out of me by saying that the boys missed you back at the bureau. They never… they never tried to… " He swallowed bile at the dark place his thoughts were taking him. "… to touch you did they?" his jaw hurt from clenching so hard, the thought of anyone touching his mate inappropriately or of his mate being too afraid or ashamed to tell him of any misconduct, throwing him for a loop.

John's arms are around his neck before he could blink and his mate is pleading against his ear.

"They never touched me. They never got close love." his whispered fiercely as he clung to the larger man. "They just talked shit that's all. Small pranks and innuendo. Reports would go missing or cases fucked with, landing me in hot water with my bosses most times. When I ignored them, they just got meaner. McCall was the worst though. He would say things… awful things that made me feel dirty. Awful things about soul mates, about fags and awful, cruel things about you."

Gordon held his trembling mate close, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Why didn't you tell me darling?"

John pulled back slightly, his eyes shone with unshed tears. "What?...And have you challenge him at the office? If you attacked him in anyway, they would have canceled your probation and you would have been sent straight to jail. Or worse, they would have sent you out on some suicide mission. You know the bureau didn't give two shits about us. Then where would I have been? I would have been alone or back in jail, still without you because they never would have let me be in the same facility with you anyway."

John pressed desperate kisses to his mate's cheeks, making a pained sound at the salty taste of his tears.

"I'm so sorry. I was so afraid that I would lose you. I couldn't lose you. Not after all we've been through. Not when I could bear it alone. I'm so sorry I never told you. Please forgive me. I love you so much."

Gordon buried his face in his John's neck and held him tight as he trembled.

"I love you too." he sobbed against his partner's warmth, "So fucking much. I hate that you had to go through all of that alone. You're so fucking brave and good and I thank God every day for whatever I did to deserve you."

They cling to each other for a while, their soul bond fairly throbbing with emotions as they calm. John presses a kiss to Gordon's shoulder, just above the collar of his shirt.

"When you say McCall spoke to you today what did you mean?" he murmured against the dark skin.

Coz leaned back with a frown. "He's the FBI liaison we were expecting."

John flinched. "He's here. What happened to the BAU?"

"Said the higher ups can't spare their top profilers for some one horse town located behind God's back. He's here babysitting some forensics expert named Pryce."

"Doctor Johann Pryce?" Blue eyes widened.

Coz nods, "Yeah. You know him? Clem freaked out something awful when she laid eyes on him."

John shook his head "He's bad news G. please be careful. I've heard stories the techs in the Lab Division that would freak me out too. Black ops stuff… the deep dark within the bureau. With both him and McCall in town?...forgive me if I don't come around the station that much… or at all really. Just so you know."

Coz nodded. "Agreed." he pulled John into a lingering kiss that made their toes curl and had them breathing hard as they pulled apart.

John tilted his head shyly, "so… we good?"

"All signs baby…" Coz gave him a shaky grin, dipping his head to steal another kiss. "…All signs."

…………………………………………………………………………

Stiles looked up as one of the backyard wards pinged. Sharing a glance with Derek he stepped out unto the back porch, his mate at his back. He took a deep breath, walking cautiously towards the tree line as he scented the area.

"We meet again Hale…" he sniffed, "A friend…. No… smells familial. Mother?"

Yakone Hale stepped silently out from behind a tree, an older woman stepping out behind her. She had beautiful dark hair that tumbled in waves down her back and her face was marked with graceful Inuit tribal tattoos along her forehead, cheeks and chin. She walked with the grace that seemed almost unearthly and Stiles randomly wondered if this was who Heath Hale got his ninja stealth skills from.

"You are more surprising than your reputation dictates Jackal." her tone never wavers and her clear eyes stare straight through him.

"Okay?" he draws out the word with raised eyebrows. "Not too sure if that was a compliment but I'm gonna take it as one. So you must be Tikaani right? Heath's wife. Shaman Princess of the Qannik Pack up in the great white north. It's too bad Disney never made a movie about Alaska cause you look every inch a Disney princess if I ever saw one. Except for Balto and even though Jenna was totally kick ass female character, she wasn't exactly a princess, even though a comparison can be made since she's a dog and you're from a werewolf pack and even though dogs and wolves aren't the same, they do both come from Canidae family and i'm going to stop that train of thought right there before Derek glares a hole through the back of my head. Where was I? yes ... The hair, the eyes, such poise and grace. I'm sure you can sing the birds out of the trees…. Or the penguins out of the seas."

"Penguins are at the north pole. Alaska has seals." Yakone giggled softly at Stiles, trading an eye roll with a smiling Derek.

"You hear that?" Stiles laughs, "Even 'Kone agrees with me. All you need to do is burst into song and we'll be green. Like really, really green… mint green… forest green even isn't that right Sourwolf?"

Derek's tone is as dry as the sahara. "Super green."

A corner a Tikaani's mouth quirks and Stiles calls that a win, pumping a fist mentally.

"You talk as much as rumored but you use humour as a distraction… your words as a weapon."

Stiles laughs freely, "Only to my enemies Princess. Mostly I use to make new friends. Just ask Derek. The poor boy had to suffer having me ramble on about fish water as a soul mark. Not to mention all the days I stalked *cough* followed him home back in the day. He couldn't stand my word babble back then. But look at us now together... All cozy n shit"

He slung an arm over Derek's shoulders , giving his mate a squeeze at the pained look on his face as he recalled those days before the bond severance. Stiles presses a kiss to Derek's temple and sent a surge of love and care along the alpha bond. Derek relaxed and gave his mate a small shy smile in return.

"Besides…" Stiles turned back to face the visitors, "… you maybe Hales but 'Kone here is Sourwolf's fave cousin and I've got the biggest fangirl crush on your husband right now. And I've only known you for a short while and I can already tell that you're a BAMF like no other. I'm not kidding… are you sure you're not an alpha? Cause my jackal wants to roll over and get his tummy rubbed just sayin'. Which is freaky but kinda cool because the power coming off of you is amazing and I'm really going to shut up now."

He slaps a hand over his mouth and blinks in astonishment. He slowly smiles and lowers his hand.

"You're good." he tips his head to the human woman. "You got some serious ju ju going on there. Was that a test? Did I pass?" he tightens his arm around Derek and watches her coolly.

She gives him a full smirk "You are very skilled. Your coven taught you well. You caught on faster than most, some never catch on." she stepped closer to her daughter and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"My daughter has something for you. I wanted to find out if you were deserving of it."

"As an enemy of the Hales? As a 'skin walker'?" Derek asked.

"As a human being." Tikaani shook her head, "Not everyone my daughter feels drawn to deserves it. Most seek to grasp at what is not theirs, to escape their just desserts by asking for more than she can give. I will not see her violated in any way."

"I understand." Stiles drops his arm and clasps Derek's hand. "What is your verdict?"

"You did not anger quickly, you know patience and respect."

"Your soul is golden" Yakone murmured, her eyes glassy.

The air thickened and Stiles could hear Derek fighting to pull in magic heavy air. He tightened his grip on his mate's hand and was glad to hear Derek's breathing even out. Tikaani stepped back as Yakone stepped forward, lifting an object in her outstretched hands.

It was a dream catcher. Made of simple leather and supple wood, the intricate weave within the rings was as thin as spider web and glistened in the sunlight. A few hand carved beads were strung with what looked like hawk feathers and sprigs of perfectly preserved flower blossoms.

Stiles took a step forward without even realizing, pulling a mesmerized Derek along with him until they stood at the very edge of the wards. The weight of the magic coming from the frail looking object thrummed a place deep within his own soul and magic sparked golden and warm as he touched it. He caught the young girl's gaze over the object and struggled to speak.

Derek brought up a hand and clasped it around Stiles', his fingertips grazing the dream catcher as he inhaled sharply. "Thank you Nay Nay"

His voice was so full of emotion that Stiles thought he would burst. He shuddered and leaned into Derek, nodding mutely as Yakone nodded and stepped back with a serene smile. Stiles shuddered again as she let go, taking the full weight of the magic of the object as he pulled it against his chest.

"I… thank you." he whispered, looking down at the deceptively simple construct.

Yakone's eyes sharpened as she frowned. "The bloody bones walks the dream scape. It hunts the penitent heart. It does not belong there. It is not allowed. You will need this to protect your dreams."

She looks at Derek and smiles warmly. "it will do until your wolf can get to you."

Derek gives a shuddering breath and nods solemnly. "Thank you."

The two women disappear into the forest without even a fare thee well and Stiles turns to Derek and lets out a final shaky breath as strong arms come up to hold him.

They stand at the edge of the wards in sweet silence just listening to the forest as the edges of the dream catcher pressing against both their chests, right above their racing hearts.

……………………………………………………..


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok... some trigger warnings for panic attack and night terrors.  
> Even more drama unfolds with angst for our favourite boy.

................................................................

By the time the sun starts sinking behind the tips of the tallest trees, Stiles had been driven out of the house by a restless energy that had him jumpy and irritable all afternoon. As if sensing danger, Janek had bluntly dispatched Stiles to deal with his mother's old and overgrown garden and take his ire out on the snarls of weeds that had grown abundantly since his mother's death.

So there he was on his knees in the soft dirt, his rattiest jeans and t-shirt stuck to his skin with sweat and smeared with dirt as he fought against that last of the stubborn hold outs. He'd stomped back into the house in search of heavy duty gloves against the thorns then had to go back in search of knee pads. He eventually dug up a pair of his dad's old hockey pads from college, upending half the shed as he mumbled and cursed under his breath continuously.

As he hacked savagely at one of the larger roots, he shivered as the magic of the dream catcher brushed across his senses even from where it had been hung up in his room. It was heavy and felt old and he was in total fanboy awe at the way it felt like Yakone's soft smile and Tikaani's searching eyes. This was the ancient Qannik magic from the vast tundras of the north and it tucked itself along Stiles' own ancestral pathways like fresh powder on the mountain top.

His mind was a whirligig of thoughts, emotions and half formed ideas that went this way and that across his mindscape and try as he might, he just could not get any of them to stay still enough to follow through. The Argents, the murders, the dreams, the Brights, the fucking blood, the Hales, his dad, his grandmothers, the bond, Derek… all of these things swirled around his head like a tornado, whipping up his fears and doubts with such ferocity it left him breathless.

With a harsh cry he pulled the stubborn root free from the earth, falling unto his back as he overbalanced. Hitting the ground shoved the breath from his lungs and he lay there for a minute, panting as spots danced in his eyes. He twisted head to look at the culprit, still held tightly in his gloved fist and with a huff of disgust, threw the large scraggle unto the pile with the rest of the defeated weeds.

As he stared up at the darkening sky, he reached out with his hearing. The forest was quiet with buzzing of insects, the soft rustling of ground animals and the occasional bird cry. Muted TVs and radios and the hum of human conversation thrummed along the street, heartbeats rose and fell in a strangely hypnotic rhythm. He tilted his head back to look up at the house. Janek been set up with all the files on Scott McCall and the mysterious Dr. Pryce, fax after fax being spit out of the old machine in the study.

Coz and John had escorted a shaky Melissa and a surly Scott home and would stay the night, partly for their protection, partly because Stiles didn't want to see what Scott would do if McCall did in fact darken their doorstep. He'd seen the belligerent, confrontational twist of his brohiem's mouth whenever his father was mentioned and Scott in that kind of foul mood did not bode well.

Though McCall Senior touted reconciliation, Stiles didn't doubt for a second that Daddy Dearest would throw Scotty in jail for assaulting a federal officer, son or not. In fact, he was sure that the man would use his son's predicament to get a leg up on Melissa or compare the case to Stiles vs Laura Hale. The man was an expert shit stirrer that was sure, always had been.

Jim had grabbed a restless Derek out for a run and Stiles shook his head in exasperation. Who did they think they were really fooling? Out for a simple 'run' yeah right. What Stiles needed was for them to sort their shit out. The tension between Jim and Derek had been burning slow for a while now and Stiles was so 100% done with that.

It had come to a head just this afternoon when they'd broken up the team pow wow and info-sharing. Jim made a surly comment, Derek snarked a sarcastic response and Stiles' already thread bare patience had snapped. He'd growled, deep and loud and everyone had frozen in their tracks.

Eyes wide, a stunned Jim had grabbed an equally stunned and unresisting Derek's arm and pulled him out of the house, yelling some garbled words about running. Coz and John had hustled Melissa and Scott back home and Janek had banished Stiles to one hundred years hard labour in the yard. The only other person in the house was Clementine and that was the real root of Stiles' agitation.

Clem had come back from her walkabout seemingly having taken a vow of silence. Even when TK debriefed them on Dr. Pryce's medical machinations, she'd sat at the kitchen table, eating her food by rote as if she tasted none of it and was only doing so because her body needed fuel. Subtle overtures were ignored, not so subtle overtures were met with sharp gazes and menacing silence.

Even though Stiles knew rationally that he had to be patient, that she would come to him when she was ready, the alpha in him wanted to find what made her like this and hunt it, kill it, rip it to shreds with his claws and teeth. To ease the jagged wounds he could see across her soul, just behind her clear placid gaze.

He exhaled harshly, glancing up at the light in the upstairs window. He trusted her. He did. He trusted her to tell him if it had anything that could affect the team. And he could wait. He knew the virtue of patience. It's just that he hated waiting with the power of a thousand suns.

The wards pings and he pushed himself up to rest on his elbows as Derek and Jim came tumbling out of the woods in wolf form. He gaped unashamedly as they frolicked … full on frolicked in the grass at the edge of the yard. Dark brown and black fur tumbling and yipping as they played. Jim dark brown mass sprung nimbly unto Derek's midnight black and they rolled wildly right into Stiles, who yelped as he was bowled over by two over enthusiastic wolves.

"Get off me" he cried, sitting up as he spit out wolf hairs. The two wolves stopped and turned to him in tandem, their tongues lagging as they gave him matching wolfy grins. Suddenly they crouched low against the ground and Stiles narrowed his eyes.

"No" he warned, scrambling away from the wolves, raising his hand to point at them. "Don't even…."

They jump him before he finishes the sentence, taking him down unto the soft grass with an oomph. He rolls and grabs Jim in a mock headlock, whining and batting feebly at Derek as the black wolf tried to lick the back of his neck, his nose cold and wet against Stiles' flushed skin. They rough house on the grass for a while and soon enough all three lay on the grass, happily exhausted.

A soft chuckle makes him look up at the house. Clem is leaning out of her window, phone in hand as she records them. She mouths "blackmail" at him as she nods towards the panting wolves and they share a grin. As she ducks back inside the window, Stiles takes a deep breath, reaching out to lay a hand on each of the panting wolves lying next to him.

He can wait. He decides. Whatever it is. He can wait. He trusts her. She's pack.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

He watches Derek undress from his seat at the edge of the bed. The werewolf is beautiful in the light of the desk lamp and Derek is drowsy and smiling from the run. He steps between Stiles knees and all but purrs when Stiles pets his sides.

"Good run?" Stiles kisses his mate's stomach, smiling as Derek's muscles jump.

He's asking more than that though. Did you and Jim settle whatever it is between you?... Do I have to step in as alpha? Can you care for care for each other as much as I care for you? Can you be pack to each other? Am I going to lose one of you or both? Do I have to choose between my mate and by beta?

Derek smiles contentedly and runs his hands through Stiles' unruly hair.

"Yeah…. Good run"

Stiles relaxes and hugs Derek around the midsection with a hum.

"Good…" he whispers against warm skin, "… I'm glad."

Derek pulls him up into a scorching kiss, slipping hands under Stiles' shirt to explore his skin, pulling away from the kiss long enough to pull the shirt clean off. They tumble into bed, touching, kissing, enjoying each other, exploring with fingertips and tongues, giggling when ticklish spots are discovered. Moaning when erogenous zones are.

Derek's tongue makes all other thoughts fly from Stiles' head, leaving nothing but pleasure and love for his mate. He shakes apart in his lover's arms, a riot of sensations roaring over him until all he can do is clutch at those strong arms and pant against sweaty skin.

He sinks into sleep, warm and well loved, smiling as the dream catcher above his head pulsed, sending it's heady energy singing along his nerves as he drifts off.

He opens his eyes to sepia.

He blinks confusedly and looks around. The bed is cold and he stretches his hands along the soft threadbare quilt only to find no sign of Derek. His frowns as he picks at a pulled thread in the patchwork quilt. Someone had made this with love, had taken pains to neatly sew unwanted rags and old clothes into something so wonderful. He could feel the love and comfort sewn into every stitch.

Nana, it said… Grandmama, it sang and he pulled it closer against the chill. He looked around the room. It was small, a bit dingy but tidy. A cardboard box of toys sat in the corner because Cleanliness was next to Godliness and boys who don't take care of their toys, don't deserve them in the first place. There were starving children in Africa who needed toys, weren't there?. He's thirsty and debated whether he should get off the small bed.

The night is dark though the dusty window and little boys who are up after bed time don't get a a glass of warm milk next bedtime. But he's so thirsty. Maybe Derek will get it for him… where's Derek? Where's his dad? Couldn't his dad get it for him? It was just a glass of water and he's so thirsty. It wasn't his fault he was up after bed time was it?

Biting his lip he pushed the quilt aside and eased off the bed. Just as his tippy toe touched the floor, he heard a small sound and jumped, pulling his leg up and hugging it tight.

"Daddy?" he whimpered, eyes searching the door way to the small and tidy room. "Is that you Daddy?"

The sound came again, this time louder. Like the sound of dice when they fell off the game board to the ground. A funny kind of rattling sound. There it was again. A little louder… a little longer. It sounded like when the neighbor called for his wayward dog, rattling chow in a bowl until the dog came running.

It came again now, loud enough for him to know. To know where the awful sound was coming from. The awful rattle rattle sound that frightened him so. He stared at the closet door, clutching the quilt as he swallowed back a cry. He glanced at the doorway to the hall. Where was his daddy? Surely Daddy could hear the awful rattle rattle? Why wasn't he coming to make it go away? He'd done it before. He'd shone his flashlight in the closet and under the bed, checking and inspecting and making sure no monsters remained. Where was he now? Didn't he hear the awful rattle rattle? It was so loud now.

There was a thump against the closet door and fat tears fell down his cheeks. He trembled as he stared at the shaking door. The awful rattle was so very loud now. He tore is eyes away to glance at the empty hallway. Maybe, just maybe… if he were fast enough… he could make it to his daddy's room and then he would be safe. Daddy had a flashlight… daddy would protect him against the awful rattle rattle.

There was another thump, louder and it made the flimsy door shake even harder. He had to get to daddy. He just had to. The awful rattle was so loud now it hurt his ears to hear it. He was so scared. He had to get to daddy.

"Daddy" he cried, as the door crashed open with an awful crash.

"Daddy" he screamed as the awful, awful thing clawed its way out of the small dark closet.

"Daddy" he screamed as it reached for him.

"DADDY" Stiles screamed as he bucked off the bed and fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Arms clutched at him and he fought them blindly, sobbing harshly as he clawed at the body above him.

Fighting free of the weight he scrambled backwards, skidding on the wet carpet as he squeezed himself under the small desk. His throat felt raw and he tasted blood, cloying and metallic on his tongue.

He whimpered as he looked down at himself, his heart pounding as he saw the blood. The thick red blood that covered him whole, every inch of his skin, soaking into the carpet, flowing in small rivulets from the sodden bed clothes.

Someone called his name from far away, his father's voice… it sounded panicked.

"Daddy" he keened, curling unto himself and crouching further under the desk, rocking back and forth as he wept heavily, sobs racking his lithe frame. "Daddy"

Then his father's arms were around him and let himself go limp in relief, weeping brokenly as his father whispered comfort into his hair, wiping away his snot and tears with the edge of his robe. His father's arms were frail but they held him close as he shivered like a leaf, his limbs in spasms as sheer terror burned along his nerves like acid.

His Father's hand came up to rest on his back, something clutched in his fist. As he pressed the object against Stiles' bare skin, a pulse of warmth and comfort spread through his, chasing away the bitter cold that had engulfed him. His sobs gave way to soft keens as his father rocked him gently, laying half under the desk. The object at his back flared hot, causing them both to gasp as it started pulsing out stronger waves of warmth and safety.

"I've got you baby boy," his father wept, his arms tightening their hold, " Daddy's here. I've got you."

……………………………………………………………….

 

He loses time, wrapped in the darkness and cold wet of the blood. Then slowly warmth seeps in. gently hands on his chilled skin, the scent of his father, the sound of his voice, fingers in his hair. He knows that he's safe from the awful and he slides into an exhausted slumber.

He wakes in stages, sleep is like a bog he must fight his way out of. He's exhausted, his body aching down to his bones as he struggles to open sleep crusted eyes. A warm damp cloth gently wipes at his eyes and face and he lets out a pitiful moan as the light hits his eyes. He buries his face into his father's side and breathes deep, clinging to the man like a limpet as fingers once again card through his hair..

It's a while before he's even aware enough to string thoughts together and he opens his eyes to the upstairs guest room. He lifts his head and sees that he is tucked into his father's side on the bed, a pale Janek sleeping propped up on some pillows. He must have made a pained noise because Janek starts awake, his hands reaching for Stiles blindly.

"I'm here son… daddy's here."

He sinks into his father's embrace with a full body tremor. "Daddy" he whimpers into his father's side as the man clutches him close.

His father presses a small object into the middle of Stiles back and a pulse of warmth flows into his body. He looks back over his shoulder and sees the small dream catcher clasped in his father's hand, turning over to lay on his back, his father's hand coming up to rest the dream catcher on his chest above his heart. He slumps against his dad as the catcher pulsed out more warmth, tiny sparks like golden lightning running along his rune tattoos like a quickening.

There's a light knock on the door frame and Jim steps in, bearing two cups of tea. He hands one to Janek and places the other on the night stand near Stiles. He gently lifts Stiles into a better seating position, though still tucked up in Janek's side. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he picks up the tea cup and blows on it before bringing the cup up for Stiles to sip. It's not too hot, warm enough to ease his parched throat and smells heavenly. They sit in silence, sipping the tea until Stiles has pulled himself together enough to speak.

"What happened?"

Jim sighs, putting the half empty cup and saucer back on the night stand.

"You had another nightmare."

Stiles snorts and coughs. "No shit Sherlock."

Janek lets his head fall back unto the pillow, "Stiles" he sighs weakly.

Stiles' face flushes with sudden shame and he buries his face in his father's shoulder. "M'sorry Daddy"

"It's ok son… it's alright…" Janek wraps an arm around his shoulders and gives him a squeeze. "It's just been a long night that's all."

Jim's hand is warm on Stiles' cheek as he guided his Alpha to look at him. Stiles pressed his cheek into the warm palm and took a deep fortifying breath. "How bad was it this time?"

Jim nodded and glanced down at the dream catcher where it lay against Stiles chest. "Not as bad as it would have been if not for this." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair as he was wont to do when he was frustrated. "… but it was still pretty bad."

Stiles gulped and took another deep breath. "Report."

Jim had been checking the perimeter one last time for bed when the first scream had registered to his senses. Stiles had sounded like he was dying and the only thing that had stopped Jim from scaling the stairs was a heavy thump and a pained cry from the study. He'd diverted only to find a panicked yet determined Janek trying to claw his way across the floor to get to his son. Knowing that the man would not stay abed, he'd carefully picked Janek up bridal style and was up the stairs in seconds.

They got to Stiles' bedroom and found a nightmare. There was blood everywhere, soaking the bed sheets and carpet. To make matters worse was that Stiles himself had been soaked in blood and in between his heartbreaking cries for his daddy, he'd been coughing up scary amounts of blood, the red staining his lips, chin and chest as he'd tucked himself up under the small desk in his room.

Janek had directed Jim to put him close to Stiles, showing no regard for the blood soaking into his clothes as he took his son into his arms. Derek had scrambled the dream catcher off the wall above the bed and had pressed it into Janek's hands. It was only when the intricate webbing of the thing started to glow gold that Stiles' cries had died down.

"That's not all" Jim murmured, reaching over to grab at Stiles' teacup and take a sip of it himself. "There's more."

They'd sat there in the blood, struck dumb at the sight of their weeping alpha, for God knows how long before Jim was startled by Derek hissing his name. he turned and saw Derek staring wide eyed at the doorway passed Jim's shoulder. Slowly Jim, turned his head, tensed and ready to attack only to blink in confusion as he saw Clem standing there, still in her rumpled sleep clothes.

"Clem?" he sighed, relaxing only freeze again at Derek's fearful whine. He looked closer at his team mate, concerned by her blank expression, her unnatural stillness and the way her eyes seemed riveted on a blood soaked Stiles. She twitched, her lips curling as her nostrils flared wildly. As she breathed in, her eyes rolled in her head and she let out an obscene moan.

"Clem?" Jim growled through dropped fangs, his claws easing out as his wolf went crazy in the back of his mind. He could hear Derek dropping into a crouch behind him, squelching on the blood soaked carpet as he moved between the woman at the door and his mate.

As soon as the line of sight was broken Clem seemed to come alive with a ragged cry, her jaw distending to show rows of jagged teeth. Her eyes going black, she dove for Stiles only to have Jim knock her back into the hall with a tackle. She came at him with a frenzy, sharp nails digging into his back as he pushed her down the hall.

They hit the stairs and fell, tumbling down to land in a heap at the bottom. She was strong but crazed, lashing out wildly but Jim had been a werewolf for years and a cop for much longer and was finally able to pin her down, catching her in a headlock until she passed out from lack of oxygen.

Jim had then secured her in the downstairs bathroom before helping a shaken Derek clean off Stiles and Janek and get them situated in the second bedroom.

Stiles held his hand to his mouth. "Jesus Christ."

"She's still out of it last time I checked on her." Jim turned over the empty cup in the saucer with a shrug. "…this is some fucked up shit Boss."

"Where's Derek?" Stiles frowned, panic rising in his chest, "Derek! Where are you? Derek?"

Within seconds Derek was in the doorway. He sat next to Janek, stretching over to take Stiles' hand in his.

"I'm here Stiles. I'm here."

Stiles squeezed the werewolf's hand in both of his. "Why are you quite over there? I need my cuddlewolf next to me."

Derek paused, exchanging a look with Jim but didn't move. Stiles gulped and stared down at where their fingers were intertwined. Their blood under his fingernails and the sight made his stomach roil. All he could smell and taste was blood, the cloying metallic taste saturated his senses until he couldn't even smell his mate.

Or could he? He brought his fingers up to his nose and inhaled.

"Derek?" Stiles trembled, "… why do my hands smell like you?... Not just you… your blood.?"

He looked up as Derek seemed to shrink back into the large knit sweater he was wearing. Stiles' eyes narrowed.

"Show me"

Derek shook his head "Stiles…"

The words seemed ripped from Stiles throat. "Show. Me."

With another look to Jim, Derek rose slowly and walked around the bed to stand before Stiles. With a deep sigh, he gripped the bottom of the sweater and slowly pulled it off, dropping it to the floor beside him.

Janek made a pained noise and squeezed Stiles tighter but Stiles didn't feel it. He couldn't feel it because he was frozen, numb to the world as his eyes travelled the landscape of his mate's torso. Jagged scars littered Derek's chest and arms, red and angry, one or two still seeping droplets of blood. They'd been cleaned at some point and some of the special salve Stiles had learned to make from his grandmother's coven had been smeared on the wounds.

"Why aren't they healing?" Janek's voice was filled with horror. "I thought werewolves healed fast."

Derek winced and looked back at a solemn Jim but it was Stiles who answered, his voice and eyes devoid of all emotion.

"They don't heal as fast when an Alpha inflicts them."

Stiles looked down at the blood crusted under his nails then back up at his mate.  
His mate…. who sported wounds inflicted by Stiles own hands.

Clawed savagely by his own Alpha. Hurt by his own soul mate.

Stiles had done this. Not some enemy or strange evil. HE had done this.

He'd raised his hand to his mate and caused pain. God, he was a monster.

"You're not a monster Stiles." Derek's eyes were watery blue.

"I think…" Stiles swallowed heavily. "… I think I'm going to be sick."

He barely made it to the toilet before throwing up everything that wasn't nailed down.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a bit late and a bit short but a lot is happening in my RL and i'm getting new story ideas all the time and it's a struggle to wrangle them all into submission so i can keep working on this. I've signed up for July Rough Trade so i'm trying to get this out by the end of this month. wish me luck.

………………………………………………………………..

It takes a while for him to pull himself together in the small bathroom, to stop the trembling in his hands, the constricting bands of iron that seems to encircle his chest and keeps him from drawing steady breath. He can hear the murmurs of Derek and Jim gently coaxing Janek back to his recovery bed downstairs. Derek knocks at the bathroom door and Stiles froze, silent until the wolf finally sighs and walks away.

Logic tells him that Derek doesn't blame him. That it was an accident but that logic is useless to his Alpha spirit as it thrashes wildly just behind his heart. We hurt our mate, it howls endlessly in the shadows of his mind, we drew mate's blood. Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and swallows heavily. He'd already vomited most of his guts outs already, there's wasn't anything left that wasn't actual guts.

He uses the steady drone of the shower to let a few sobs escape, letting the pounding hot water wash away the salt on his cheeks. The towel is harsh against his pink skin, already scrubbed raw in the shower and he thinks this is what he deserves so he isn't gentle. Bit by bit he dresses, putting on each piece of clothing like armor. Shoring himself up his mental defenses so that he can face the world once again without flinching, without breaking.

The house is quiet when he emerges, too quiet and he's only tense for a second before Derek is in his face, crowding Stiles against the wall, using Stiles' surprise to his advantage. Stiles hands hover just above Derek's arms, unwilling to seek comfort in touch because he can still see the jagged claw marks across his mate's caramel skin every time he closes his eyes.

"Touch me" Derek growls, his body pressing Stiles' to the nearby wall, his nose buries in his Alpha's neck.

"I can't" Stiles gasps, "… I can't."

"You can…" Derek rubs a stubbled cheek against Stiles, making the Alpha whimper.

Stiles lets out a shuddering breath. "I'll hurt you."

"You won't hurt me. I trust you Alpha. My good Alpha."

Derek's hands slid beneath Stiles shirt to caress his chilled skin, his knee pressing between Stiles' legs, keeping him pinned against the wall. Stiles is trapped as he dared not put his hands on Derek, even to push him out of the way.

The scent of blood still clings to the back of his throat and in his mind, it is Derek's blood. The Alpha in him is torn between howling with rage or hiding it's nose under its paws. He'd never used his Alpha strength like this on pack before, much less his mate and it terrified him that he'd had it in him. That he was capable of such violence against a loved one.

Derek's right hand came to rest against Stiles chest and pressed an object against the skin there. Stiles looked down in confusion, gasping a soft 'oh' as he recognized the dream catcher. The talisman pulsed warmth between them and they both gasped at the sensation.

"Alpha" Derek murmured against Stiles' neck, pressing his body closer as the dream catcher pulsed again. He kissed his way up Stiles neck, whining softly when Stiles turned his head away with a wince. "Touch me Alpha."

"Derek…"

Derek pressed his lips to the pulse point in Stiles neck, feeling the blood race underneath his kiss. "I trust you Stiles. I trust my Alpha. I love you. You won't hurt me."

Stiles voice is tiny as he lets his forehead drop unto Derek's shoulder. "I already did. Your blood is on my hands."

Derek sighs and pulls back a little. "Well… that's a bit melodramatic don't you think?"

Stiles chokes out a "huh?" as he whips his head up to stare at his mate, a little hurt.

Derek sighs, bringing the dream catcher up and tying it via a soft leather cord around Stiles neck so that it hung just over his heart. As Stiles stared at the talisman, Derek tilted Stiles chin up and caught his lips in a kiss, swallowing Stiles' surprised moan. As the dream catcher pulsed once again, Stiles' hands grasped at Derek's shoulders in surprise and he moaned again as his wrapped his arms around his mate's neck and deepened the kiss. When they finally parted, Derek leaned in to press his forehead against Stiles'.

"I know what you're thinking." he brushes a finger against Stiles' kiss bruised lips when he tries to talk. "No … no talking. Just listening for now. As I said, I know what you're thinking right now. You are blaming yourself for hurting me. You are wondering how I can stand to look at you much less touch you right now because I should see you as an unworthy Alpha, as an unworthy mate. You are thinking that you must have meant to hurt me intentionally, at least subconsciously. You are certain that I may never forgive you, and even if I do, I may never trust you again. That whatever we were building together is lost now and we'll never be able to find it again."

"You're wondering if your team will trust you know that they know the depths you're capable of. Of the violence and anger that lives inside of you, burning a hole behind just your heart, pressing the sharp edges of doubt and fear and the blood red heat of feral rage against an enemy you just can't see. But your enemy isn't tangible for you to lash out against and so you hold that rage pressed deep inside you for fear at taking it out on those you swore to protect."

Derek wipes away the stunned tears running freely down Stiles' cheeks.

"But I want to tell you now that you are not your rage. It is not a fire that blazes out of control, obliterating everything in your life. It burns hot yes, but it is a heat tempered but your love and compassion, your sense of duty and justice; your determination and need to protect, to care for others. Your selflessness and forgiving heart that just pulls us all to you. Your father's steel backbone and the legacy of his innate sense of right and wrong that shines so bright in you. You are capable of violence, yes, but you don't let it control you. What happened last night…"

He presses closer when Stiles tries to squirm away.

"What happened last night wasn't you lashing out at me, your mate. It was you lashing out at that which haunts your dreams. You were fighting a monster with everything you could and I never want you to not do that. You were fighting to survive, to live… to come back to me and I always want you to fight to get back to me. No matter what, I want you to fight with everything you have to get back to me."

Stiles' throat worked as he struggled to speak. "How….how do you know exactly what's in my head? Have you become psychic since breakfast of something?" his chuckle is a bit on the hysterical side and Derek places a hand on his neck to soothe him, just like Stiles does for him.

"No Stiles I'm not psychic." he chuckled softly, "I know because that is what I felt after I lost you all those years ago. As for working through those feelings and being able to verbalize them in a healthy way, I owe that to having a deputy with a masters in psychology and a habit of sitting on me until I 'deal with my man-pain'."

"Reyes." Stiles huffed a weak laugh.

Derek smirked. "Boyd actually."

"Really? Even the sitting on you part? That sounds more like something Reyes would do if you ask me."

"The sitting usually happened after a good run. His wolf is actually heavier than mine" The werewolf shrugged. " but what can I say… he's the reason why I'm not licking my wounds in some dark corner, drowning in guilt and self-loathing while you build a wall of stone around your heart in order to cope with your guilt and self-loathing."

"So….yay for therapy then huh?," Stiles bit his lip, "So Boyd's the one we should thank for being able to talk to each other like fully functioning adults and in doing so, sidestep all the drama and angst and wasting a lot of time not talking to each other and each of us suffering in tragic silence until it's almost too late like every teenage drama. Derek… are we being grownups right now?"

Derek nods, pressing his face into Stiles' neck once again. "Pretty much."

Stiles relaxed into Derek's arms, letting the man hold his weight as he hugged him back.

"Good for us. We rock as a couple. I feel like I should thank Boyd somehow though. Do you think he'd like a fruit bouquet? Maybe something with meat…. Like a meat bouquet? Can you get something like that at the supernatural supermarket?"

Derek chuckled and leaned in to steal another kiss. "Maybe we can go check later, after we deal with everything else."

Stiles reached up to palm the small dream catcher, closing his eyes as it pulsed warmth and comfort. He thought about what was waiting downstairs, dealing with Clem and Jim and his dad, after that dealing with Coz and John and the McCalls, and the Hales, and Deaton and the monster that still stalked the night, preying on innocent children. They still had to deal with all of that and if the pattern held, they had a new victim to search for somewhere out there.

He sighed and let his head thump against the wall.

"Do you think Boyd does couple's therapy?"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Clem tensed, curling her fingers into fists as she woke. Flexing the muscles in her arm, she feels the wooden arm of the chair she's been handcuffed to, the cold metal resting against her wrist. She lets her chin rest against her chest, her hair loose around her face as she slows her breathing and just listens to the creaks and groans of the old house. She picks up the scent of coffee and gun oil in the stale air of the enclosed room. The wood of another chair creaks as someone weight shifts on it.

"I know you're awake." a voice says and she opens her eyes, lifting her head.

Gordon Cozier is sitting on a chair at the other end of the Stilinski dining table. He has a cup of strong coffee cradled in one hand and is sitting back, with an ankle on the opposite knee. His gun holster is empty but she can see the outline of one of his knives and knows there are at least two more she can't see.

"Do you know where you are?" he asks, taking a sip of his drink. He takes in her silence with calm patience. "Do you know who you are?"

They stay silent until he finished the cup and set it on the otherwise empty table. She rattles one of the cuffs.

"Is this really necessary?"

He raises an eyebrow. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me? Are they necessary?"

She gestures to herself in her crumpled and blood splattered sleep clothes, "I don't have any weapons on me."

Coz shrugged, "From what I heard, you don't need any."

"And what did you hear about last night?"

"Not nearly enough I'd say. Why don't you tell me what happened last night?"

Clem laughed, it was rusty and humorless. "You were always the weakest at interrogation. For a master thief, you are quite the blunt instrument. Why are you even in here? Did they think that I would talk to you because of some kind of misguided kinship… are we good… brother?"

Emotion flashes in Coz's eyes and he clenches his hand at hearing his mate's words from her mouth. But he moment passes and he takes a deep breath. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and just looks at her.

"I know I'm shit at interrogation. I'm not here to do that. I'm here to talk to you and see whether or not we need to take those handcuffs off you or not. You think that if you piss me off I'll storm out of here and someone else will take over…. Stiles maybe? Cause then you'd see how he was, if he was okay because you wouldn't just believe me if I said he was. You need to see him… you need to see the Alpha… you need to know if you've done something you can't pull back from. Something you can't be forgiven for. You need to know if your still pack."

His mouth twists. "I can't tell you that right now. But I can tell you that I'm the only one who can talk to you because Jim doesn't trust his wolf to stay calm around you. Neither does Hale. Stiles probably would but no one is willing to let him come in here alone. Even Papa Stilinski put the kebosh on that happening. And I'm sure as hell not letting my mate in here by himself so it's just me left to talk and if you want out of those cuffs then you need to start talking."

Clem looks away. "There's nothing left to say."

There's a short scuffle outside of the door and she shivers at her Alpha's low growl.

Coz chuckles "You do know Stiles has been chomping at the bit to ask you a million questions since forever right? You know how Alpha likes to be all up in our business. He's been waiting for you to trust him enough to talk to him but I've never seen him bent out of shape like he was this morning. Jim and Hale have to literally pin him to the ground to keep him from getting in here."

"My secrets are my own. How can I know that he won't use them against me?"

"Bullshit" Coz shakes his head and slumps in the chair. She glares at him but he shrugs it off. "You really think that Alpha would do something like that? Fuck… He fought to get John and I away from those assholes at the FBI, he pulled Jim, kicking and screaming from the bottom of a bottle and saved TK from life as a shut in.

In fact, he saved your ass from either and desk job or early retirement. Don't looks surprised… TK checks up on everybody because he's a nosey little shit. It would be so easy for Stiles to make any of us his bitches because when it comes down to brass tacks, none of us have anywhere to go.

"Why…. I don't understand." Clem hisses through clenched teeth. "I don't know what he wants from me"

"He doesn't want anything from you Clem… he just wants you." Coz sighed, "You see the Bossman, he collects people. He brings them under his wing, he protects them, the loves them and sees the endless potential in them. When I first met him, I didn't believe anyone could be like that. It's true, he can be a selfish asshole when he wants but his selfishness is in that he covets us. He doesn't want to share us. He is Alpha and we are his. Not matter what we are, or what we think we are. We're his whether we like it or not."

"That sounds comforting" Clem snorts, sarcasm bitter across her tongue.

Coz tilts his head. "Actually it is rather comforting. There's not a lot of people who stick by you when it comes down to it. At least not in my lifetime."

"Not in mine either." Clem ducks her head. "I don't know what to do"

Coz pulls his chair closer, resting his arms on the dining room table.

"I know what you need to do. You need to start talking."

 

…………………………………………………………..

Stiles slumps to the floor in the hallway outside, Jim and Derek tucked against him, either as a comfort or deterrent from trying to get inside the room yet again. He hates that dead tone of Clem's voice when she gets upset and he either wants to go and cuddle her face off (which he tried to do once and she almost stabbed him for startling her) or go out and hunt whoever broke her trust and acquaint their heads to a stone floor, multiple times.

He whines and pushes his face into Derek's neck as Clem finally starts to talk about her past. With halting breath and stumbling words she talks about how she was raised as a ward of the church with her brother and had been trained with him from young about one of the churches most secret missions. The hunting of demons and other evil creatures.

Yet even as she progressed, learning quickly and rising in rank, her brother had withdrawn more and more until one day he'd enlisted in the army and left without saying goodbye, only leaving a short letter apologizing for not walking the path that she would. When her training was complete, she was assigned the most difficult cases, the hunt of the Upir- a unique strain of vampirism that was mostly hereditary and usually found in family groups.

Her last and most difficult case led her to a small town and to a rich and prominent family who hid their Upirism well. It was in that town that she met Dr. Pryce, who worked with the family and was a modern day frankenstien himself. There, in that small town, on a fateful night in a cold stone cellar, Clementine had come face to face with the monster she was hunting and had lost.

She remembered bits and pieces, memories of her laying on the cellar floor, her throat ripped out, bleeding from the places where the Upir had peeled off her skin. She'd been in the brink of death when Pryce had found her. She'd begged him to kill her but there's been a curiosity in his eyes that made afraid even then.

Eight months later she'd awoken in a lab, her scars healed to faint white lines, her skin slightly paler in patches. Pryce had come in, all smiles as he explained to her all he'd done to save her life. He'd been so pleased with himself, with his science that had done what nothing else could do. She'd been broken and he'd put her back together. But in putting her back together, he'd had to put in a few extra parts, tweak a little here and there until what she had become was nothing at all like what she'd been.

Then he let her go.

He had no more use for her, his curiosity had been sated, the science concluded. And so she'd gone back to her life, to her mission. Unfortunately, the church she'd seen as her home, the mission to which she'd been so devoted, had no use for someone who was no longer human. Someone who was once a beloved child of God. She had become a child of something else. Something unholy and there was no place for her anymore.

She'd been set adrift. Not knowing where to do. Where to go. She ended up back at Fish and Wildlife and while they queried her long absence, they had been happy to put her to work again. Then she met Stiles and she'd found a new cause, a new mission. One that she hoped she still had.

Stiles clutched at Jim's hand, fighting every urge to go to her, to hug her to him and tell her that she still belonged, that she always would.

"What about the blood?" he heard Coz ask gently.

"It's the upir in me." she softly admitted, "I can usually control it but these murders, the blood is drenched with magic. It makes it harder for me to keep it reigned in. Last night I was caught unawares, still half asleep as I got to Stiles room. I don't know what came over me. I was just so… so…. Hungry."

Her voice is low and rough and it sends a shiver down Stiles' spine.

"I was going to tell him… tell you all last night. But then everyone split up and I thought that I could leave it until this morning. But I guess it's true what they say about good intentions… I've put you all in danger. Maybe I should be off the team."

"Oh hell no…" Stiles growls and slips out of Derek and Jim's hands before they could blink, all but stumbling into the dining room in his haste to get through. Clem stares at him with startled eyes as he ignores Jim's growl and stalks right up to her.

"Stiles?"

He shakes his head and cups the back of her neck with his hand. "I said Hell To The No is there any way you are leaving this team. Over my dead body."

Her brows furrow. "The next time it may very well be over your dead body. I'm dangerous Stiles."

"Of course you're dangerous. You once tazed a 30 foot lamia to save my life. You're a better shot that Jim, better at knives than Coz, hell, your mind works as fast as mine most times. You are a bad ass bitch Clem. This fucked up vampire thing isn't even the most dangerous thing about you. In fact, when you look at it like that then all of us are pretty dangerous.

Jim and Derek are walking ginsu knives, coz and John can steal the clothes off your back. I can turn someone into a newt if I'm mad enough. Don't forget TK… he can ruin all our credit and put us on the terrorist watch list and then where would we be? So you've got a bit of an overbite and thirst for blood. It's not the worst thing we've come across."

He squats next to her and looks into her clear grey eyes. "Do I need to start chanting One Of Us… One of Us?"

"No" Clem hurried to assure, a small smile on her lips. "I think we're good."

Stiles grins. "Good."

"Oh and Stiles?"

He turns back toward her, handcuff keys in hand. "Yep?"

She narrowed her eyes at him and he gulped. "Don't ever call me a bitch again."

He gaped, sputtering, "But I said you were a bad ass bitch? At least I didn't call you a bad ass muth…"

"Stiles!" Jim yells, rolling his eyes and taking the cuff keys. "I'd quit while I was ahead if I were you."

Stiles 'eeped' as Clem's raised an eye brow and muttered something about his dad before fleeing the room.

Clem laughed and for the first time in a long time, felt like she truly belonged.

………………………………………………………………………….


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. it has been a really reeeeeally long time since i have updated and it's mainly a combination of real life and doing Rough Trade NANO challenges. It threw me off the groove I had going for this story and it has been hard trying to get it back. Plus, my dad died recently and also a huge project on work has been ruling my life. 
> 
> i've been struggling with this chapter for weeks and it' not co-operating with me until i scrapped it all and re-wrote it today. it's basically filler but i wanted to get something out before i got into NANWRIMO for November.... i know.... what the hell was i thinking when i signed up for that right? 
> 
> if you are still with me by now i am still going to try to work on this story, just after November especially because the end of the year is quiet time on work so i will have time during the day. don't worry, the plot is going to pick right back up soon and people are going to get what coming to them. 
> 
> thank you guys for sticking with me on this. 
> 
> this work is un-beta'd and may be subject to editing. i will notify if that happens. i just wanted to get this out.

Jim sat at the bottom of the staircase, still damp from the long hot shower he'd taken to scrub the last of the blood from his skin and hair. Exhaustion hung from him like a cloak as he stared at the worn carpet runner, digging flakes of blood from under his nails with a careful claw. He blinked slowly, looking up as a warm hand squeezed his shoulder. Clem sat beside him, nudging his shoulder with hers and he gave her a small smile that felt more like a grimace.

A low growl came from the living room and they both turned their heads in tandem to see a growly Derek trying to coax Stiles into drinking some hot soup from a cup. Stiles on the other hand was more interested in warming his shaking hands against the heat of the cup than drinking the soup. Gone was the snarky, sarcastic alpha whipping out witty one liners and dry humorous pet names and in place was this pale, trembling … boy who couldn't seem to settle on the old saggy couch, even when wrapped up in a fugly yellow and brown afghan and a hot werewolf teddy bear.

Rage burned beneath Jim's skin, slow and creeping and he swallowed hard and tasted alpha's blood at the back of his nose and throat. Stiles' room had been coated in blood very much like the recent crime scenes and it left no doubt in his head that whatever was behind the child killings was also behind the attack on Stiles. When he had stumbled into that room, his ears ringing with Stiles' screams, his heart had almost stopped with pure dread at the amount of blood that had all but left the room awash with red.

That same crushing fear had gripped his chest in a vice all through getting Janek and Stiles cleaned up and settled into the guest room, getting a shocky Derek calmed, cleaned up and his wounds attended to; getting an unconscious Clem secured, giving himself a cursory cleaning and calling in Coz and Jim for re-enforcements. After hanging up from the call he'd slid down the wall and shook, cell phone dropping to the floor beside him as he'd tried to get his lungs to suck in enough air; getting blood smeared across his face as he wiped weakly at the hot tears that leaked from his eyes.

It had taken some time before his heart stopped slapping against his rib cage and his wolf stopped going berserk in his head. Granted, Jim had seen a lot of fucked up shit in his time as a Cop both in Chicago and Florida, including witnessing an on site necropsy on some gators that had made a brunch date with a drug dealer running from the law but this took the fucking cake.

Fuck, this whole town gave Jim's wolf a serious case of the heeby jeebies with its corrupt druids, were-douches, federal dick bags and some sort of unknown evil magical force targeting his Alpha using some kind of fucked up blood magic.

Seriously, fuck this place already.

He felt tight in his skin. All the peace he'd found while running with Derek what seemed like forever ago seemed to have deserted him completely. He felt like one of those cats with its hackles raised, jumpy and unsettled.

Jumpy and unsettled and a little bit scared shitless frankly.

Then, it was all he could do to keep his Alpha sandwiched between him and Derek in the hall beyond the dining table as his team mate and pack sister sat chained to a chair, pouring out a part of her hurt and broken soul; wanting to do nothing more than to howl his rage at the fuckers who dare hurt their cool and collected Clementine. 

Having Coz there had helped him shore himself up because he'd always relied on Stiles to be the strong one, even when his alpha seemed emotionally broken and vulnerable, there had always been this inner strength to Stiles that Jim's wolf looked to for control. He hadn't been certain of the moment that his wolf had chosen Stiles as his anchor but after having lost most of this things he'd ever loved- Callie and Jeff, his job as a homicide detective, his very humanity- after being shot in the back on his wedding day, he'd been adrift in a sea of liquor for a long time until and old man and a young boy yanked him by the scruff back into life, kicking and screaming.

At the time, he'd resented them both bitterly for interrupting his epic pity party to go chasing a fucking Loveland Frog (for Pete's sake) through the murky depths of the everglades but in time he'd come to appreciate the old man's cigar roughened laugh and the young man's enthusiastic flailing. Then, after Bert had been killed, he'd been there for his grieving friend, letting Stiles find comfort in his body even they both avoided talking about the soul mark branded into Stiles' chest and the soft broken sadness in those whiskey eyes.

Jim loved Stiles. As much as he could love someone after losing the love of his life had all but shattered his heart. In some ways he felt safe feeling that way for Stiles because he knew that despite all odds, Stiles had a soul mate out there for him. Jim had been born sans mark but the latent werewolf genes in him had been strong enough to see Callie as his mate and when she'd gone; his wolf, newly awakened by the bullet to his back, had mourned her loss deeply. Callie and Jeff had been the closest thing to pack he'd ever had before and he'd fallen for them both deeply and completely.

Waking up in the hospital with his partner Carlos and a member of the local werewolf pack at his bedside, his fiancé nowhere to be seen, had been like a death knell for him echoing in his head. Life after that had been seen through the bottom of a whiskey bottle and had stayed that way until Stiles.

Maybe that was part of the reason that he and Derek had been circling each other like stray dogs over a bone. Jim had to admit, he'd gotten a gleeful amount of perverse pleasure from watching the Hale Beta wolf turn himself inside out from having another wolf's scent on his soul mate. Add to the fact that Stiles had been wearing Jim's clothes from the hastily grabbed go-bag and the fact that Jim loved to scent mark his alpha and sometimes casual lover frequently had driven Hale's imagination wild with jealousy.

He'd been a bit vindictive sure… but he and Stiles both had been working with the assumption that Hale's teenaged rejection of the bond had been the cause of Stiles' pain and heartbreak over the years. For all the times Stiles had wept softly in Jim's arms in bed after a particularly rough case, every wince that Stiles tried to hide when his Kevlar vest pressed to heavily against his forever aching and enflamed "FUCK OFF". For every time those whiskey eyes shone with a deep, soul scarring hurt that never really went away. For all of those things Jim had been ready to bury his claws into Hale's chest at first sight of him.

Even after the truth had come out and Stiles had all but forgiven Derek and set about seeking to repair the bond if possible, Jim had still held reservations. A part of him didn't want to see his Alpha tied down to this fucking town that had hurt him so deeply when he was a child. Stiles was so much bigger than Beacon Hills with its vast forests and ambient magic that somehow seemed murkier than the deepest Florida bog. Jim just wanted to get in the next plane out of this neck of the woods and just keep going.

But he'd told himself long ago that he'd follow Stiles as his faithful second, even unto death and if Stiles eventually decided to stick with Hale and stay here then Jim would be right beside his Alpha, clearing out whatever cretin's nest of magical fuckery that had cast such a dark shadow over this town.

It was only yesterday when he'd gone for a run with Derek that they'd been able to put most of the animosity behind them, their wolves being able to settle things in a way that humans just couldn't. Jim had talked about the loss of his wolf's mate and Derek had shared some of the pain and self-loathing he'd felt after Kate's conviction and Stiles disappearance. That aching emptiness deep in one's chest, cold and dark and the devastation that the lonely cold would never again be filled by another's warmth.

After some mutual sniffling and tears, they'd commiserated over their mutual love for Stiles and his innate ability to talk his way both into and out of trouble everywhere he went. The joy and sweet exhaustion of the run had burned in his chest and the back of his head for the rest of the evening and he'd felt the pack bond between himself and Derek growing as they both came to an agreement that their alpha had enough love for them both, either as a lover, mate or friend.

The sound of Coz and Jim coming through the front door with breakfast brought Jim back to the here and now and he allowed Clem to pull him up and guide him to the dining table where Coz was doing his mother hen routine and making sure everyone's plate was full and that they were all eating, even Stiles who got plied with crepes and fresh fruit, swapping out his half-finished soup with strong hot coffee.

His face was still pale, the moles that dances upon his skin like constellations were stark against his almost translucent pallor. The fine tremble was still there but Stiles eyes were sharp and bright, ringed with luminescent red as he watched his pack hungrily devour the spread of Diner food breakfast that Coz and John had bought after dropping off Melissa and Scott to work.

The hospital staff would close ranks around Melissa today in case Rafael McCall decided to show his face and as much as Jim loathed to admit it, Deaton would make sure that Scott was protected at work. It made Jim's blood crawl at how invested the druid seemed in Scott's future, mentoring the teen through the years, taking him under his wing as he'd done. It made Jim wonder just what Deaton's true intentions towards Scott were, even before they'd discovered his role in the bond severing.

He also knew that Stiles had been thinking along the same lines but had yet to talk to his brother from another mother about it. Mostly because Stiles hadn't wanted to tell his childhood BFF that he wanted to gut his boss like a fish and use his hollowed out skull as a piss pot. Besides, Deaton had not done anything untoward to Scott as far as they knew but Stiles would not let it lie for too long.

He met Coz's eyes over the table and nodded minutely when the other man's eyes flickered up. Stiles' childhood bedroom had been the stuff of nightmares in the dawning light. Jim felt a bit of hysterical laughter lodge itself in his chest at the thought of how literal that saying had been for Stiles and he had to sip some orange juice before he choked of his breakfast pastry.

Most of the paraphernalia left behind by Stiles' teen exodus and kept untouched by Janek over the years had been ruined by the blood that coated the walls and soaked through the carpet. Just like the other crime scenes, the blood had not dried and the ambient magic in the room was so thick that even Coz had felt it.

So while Stiles and Janek slept in the guest room and Clem secured in the downstairs bath, Coz, Jim and Derek had make quick work of the scene; at first taking careful and thorough photos, collecting evidence and swabs for the lab before stripping the room of all its blood soaked contents.

Sharp claws and supernatural strength made short work of ripping up sodden carpets which joined old books, papers, bedding and even the ruined mattress in a pile in the back yard for burning. They salvaged what this could of Derek's and Stiles' things, grateful that Stiles' laptop had spent the night on the kitchen table. By the time they were done, the men had been covered in blood and the room smelled strongly of bleach and burnt sage. They tossed their old sweats into the burn pile and got cleaned up in time for Stiles and Janek to wake.

Jim nursed his coffee in silence as John and Derek cleared the table, Stiles and Clem sitting at the far end in quiet conversation about her managing her need for blood as an Umpyr. Even though Jim could easily eavesdrop on them, he'd made an effort to dampen his hearing, wanting to give his pack mate the privacy she needed. Besides, his mind just couldn't seem to settle, running circles around the hits that just seemed to keep on coming.

Coming straight from weeks on the road hunting the Alpha Pack straight into Kate Argent and the Hales then into a supernatural child killer and the threat of the Eugene Bright hanging over them, Jim felt a bit frayed around the edges; both emotionally and physically.

He could hear Coz filling in TK over the speaker phone while John finished the dishes and Derek went to see how Janek was doing. He knew that he should be doing something like the rest of them were, fulfilling his role as Stiles' second in command but he just couldn't seem to get himself together.

There was a warm hand at the back of his neck and he melted into it.

"You were growling." Stiles ran his thumb along Jim's skin, feeling a shudder run through the Beta wolf as he dropped his chin to his chest. "You sounded like you were in pain."

Stiles pulled a seat close until his knees pressed against Jim's leg and ran his hand down Jim's back and up into his hair, scratching gently against his scalp. Jim's wolf whined softly and slumped under the ministrations.

"My good beta." Stiles voice thrummed through his very soul and Jim hitched a breath, his chest tight as he clenched his hands into fists. He could feel the pain where his claws threatened to puncture his palms, stopping just before they pushed through to draw blood.

Stiles guided Jim's head to the side so that their eyes could meet. Stiles eyes were blazing Alpha red and Jim felt his own tingle gold in response. Stiles leaned forward until their foreheads touched and let out a soft sigh.

"You've been so strong for me… for the team. Thank you."

Jim's eyes burned and his wolf whined. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out so he shut it and concentrated on breathing. Stiles smiled and pressed a soft kiss to the edge of Jim's mouth.

"You held us together… held me together. You brought my father to me. You stopped Clem from doing something she would regret. You helped Derek when he was h - hurt…" Stiles voice got a bit watery, "… you called in Coz and John and made sure Melissa and Scott got to work okay. You even processed the room like the bad ass federal agent you are.."

"Thank you" A kiss at the other side of his mouth. " I am so proud of you"

Soft lips pressed against Jim's in a chaste kiss. "My good Beta wolf"

Stiles hand felt cool against his heated skin and Jim was finally able to pull in a full breath without feeling that painful tightness.

"Alpha" was all he could say as the pack bond strummed with warmth and love.

They sat like that for a while until Stiles pulled gently away with a soft smile. He tilted Jim's chin up with his finger.

"Okay?"

Jim swallowed and nodded with a quirk of his lips. It was as close to a smile as he could get at that moment. "Yeah"

"Good. Because we need you." Stiles smile widened as he then turned his head to address the room at large. "Because if we are gonna get these fuckers we are going to need all of us working together."

Jim looked up and around to see Derek staring at him from the kitchen doorway. Jim bit his lip, tasting Stiles there and met Derek's gaze unwaveringly. After a few seconds Derek smiled warmly and flashed his eyes, the growing pack bond between them pulsing with renewed energy. Jim felt himself grin in return as warmth spread through his chest and his wolf all but purred.

"So what's the play Bossman?" TK's voice was smooth as honey over Coz' speaker phone as they all pulled seats around the dining room table.

Stiles looked at them all one by one until he got to Derek who had taken the chair next to his. He threaded their fingers together and stole a brief kiss before facing his people… his pack once again. He pulled the small dream catcher out of his pocket and let Derek tie it around his neck, the soft thrum of power pulsing from it making everyone relax by degrees.

"We've been playing too much of this game without even knowing the rules." Stiles admitted, "From the moment we arrived in Beacon Hills, we hit the ground running and never stopped. It's just been one thing after the other and we've been scrambling to keep our head above water that we've forgotten who and what we are."

"We may be supernatural grab bag of a pack but we are also police officers and master thieves and doctors and hackers…"

"People don't use the term hacker anymore Boss" TK cheekily cut in. Stiles made a face at the phone as the others chuffed.

"Rude. You're stepping on my moment here Foxy. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted by a certain cyberpunk… that we have a how lot of law enforcement and investigative training between us and we haven't been using it to its fullest potential. We've been…. No I've been letting personal stuff get mixed up with work stuff and that stuff has cross contaminated with all the other stuff and what we have left is a big ol' mess of… well…. stuff."

"Anyway…" Stiles flushed at everyone's smiles and rolled his eyes. "it's looks like we've finally caught a break… if you can call it that… thanks to this little prezzie from Yakone Hale." he held up the dream catcher for them to study.

"This little baby saved my life last night, kept me drowning in the blood magic being used against me. And I know for certain now that it’s the same blood magic that's being used in the recent murders."

Derek looked pale at Stiles' soft admission, his eyes glued to the small talisman. "How?... I mean…"

Stiles lifted their intertwined fingers and pressed a kiss to the back of Derek's hand.

"Because not only did it save my life, this little guy also allowed me to see past the miasma the blood magic would usually cast on my memories. That dream last night… I remember it. I remember it all. There's been another murder… and this time… I know exactly where to look"

He looked at them all then turned to Derek and took a deep breath. "So you want to know what the play is? Okay, we are going to take a step back and take another look at everything that's been happening, we're going to put all the facts and figures against the grindstone of decades of combined experience and see what comes of it. We are going to find these fuckers and show them that they don't mess with us, they don't mess with our people, that they don't mess with our town."

Stiles eyes flashed red as he gave them a wicked grin.

"And when we have them right where we want them… we are going to fuck up their shit… lawfully of course…. y'know … mostly. Except for Deaton of course. I'll see that fucker dead before I'm done here."

Derek sighed heavily. "I am still the Sheriff you know. You can't say these things in front of me. That's pre-meditation."

"What happened to helping dig graves for the bodies I leave in my wake as a skin walker? I thought you had my back boo." Stiles squawked, making the rest of the table laugh as Derek rolled his eyes.

Jim chuckled with the rest of them, taking another deep breath… then another as the tightness in his chest loosened completely. They could do this. He truly believed it. Whatever this whole cluster fuck was…. They could get through this whole and intact on the other side. Jim pushed the fear down and felt his mind calm as he listened the others as they freshened their coffees and moved about before coming back armed with laptops, case files and notepads.

Soon enough they were settled, alert and ready to take this mystery by the horns. Jim sat up with the rest of them as they turned to Stiles. Then, with a nod to Derek and a final hand squeeze, the Alpha opened his mouth to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried writing Jim's POV. i think it came out better than i thought it would. as to his eye colour, Teen wolf lore has a wolf's eyes turning blue if they kill and innocent or in some cases go through substantial drama. while Jim may have gone through a lot of pain becoming a werewolf late in life and losing his wolf's mate, i don't see his eyes turning blue because of it. Blue eyes are supposed to be rare and to only occur under specific circumstances. 
> 
> also... 3600+ words in a day. Go Me!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm Back!!! it only took me three months to get back into the You Gotta groove. it was a wild and crazy three months for me in RL though so i can't complain. I felt that i had to do Janek's POV because it seemed like a good place to jump back into writing in this world.

For someone who'd been born a magical null, Janek Valentyn Stilinski's life had been touched by magic more than a few times. He never regretted it though because good or bad, his life would not be what it was now without magic. From a boy as young as three he'd decided that he'd wanted to be a lawman when he grew up and not even his wealthy immigrant parents could stop him. The glinting gold star pinned to the chest in an old west TV show became his Guiding Light and he'd been travelling toward it since that day.

He met his heart's North Star his first year in college, sitting on the steps before an afternoon class, catching up on some reading while the warm sun danced on his neck and shoulders. A shadow fell over him and he quickly looked up, blinking at the sun's glare shining through the golden curls of the woman standing before him.

"The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness." she quoted, gesturing to the book he had clenched in his hands.

Janek grinned, lifting his well-worn copy of Speak, Memory by Vladimir Nabokov, a warm rush of joy filling his chest at hearing his words spoken. He'd become obsessed with the author ever since he'd discovered where his soul mark had come from.

"Existence is a series of footnotes to a vast, obscure, unfinished masterpiece." he rejoinders, laughing at her shocked smile.

They spent the rest of the day talking and laughing, missing the afternoon's classes as well as the next morning's. it had been the beginning of something so beautiful and bright that Janek should have known that it would fade too soon as the brightest flames tend to do. His Claudia had loved him with all of her heart and mind and he'd done the same. Nothing else had mattered.

Sure, they were not perfect people. Sure they made mistakes and argued like cats and dogs with their parents and with each other. There were times when they wanted to tear their hair out in frustration and couldn't stand the sight of each other for hours, sometimes days.

But there were times they lived inside each other's skins, inside each other's souls, in each other's arms. When the love they had for each other outshone even the brightest star in the solar system. Those times far outweighed the bad and for that brief period in time, Janek was the happiest he'd ever been.

And out of their joy and love, Claudia had gifted him with a son. A bright and beautiful baby boy with his mother's soulful eyes and little upturned nose. The moment he'd first held his boy in his arms, Janek had wondered if anything could ever trump a soul bond and had chuckled to himself as the nurses fussed over a tired and joyful Claudia.

He'd mouthed, 'Thank You' at her as tears rolled down his cheeks, rocking his body side to side as little Wojciech gurgled in his arms. This is happiness, he'd thought to himself.

And for a while it was like living in a Monet; all bright colours, soft edges and a joy that was hard to describe and their little family loved and laughed and lived.

But eventually, as all things do, the soft light faded and the bright colours dulled as Claudia's body seemed to eat itself away. It was a slow and painful process that gutted both Janek and Stiles to witness. He vividly remembers the last night where once again he held his baby boy in his arms, rocking his body gently from side to as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Claudia had looked at them both with cloudy eyes filled with the last of her love and gave a weak smile. "Life is a great sunrise. I do not see why death should not be an even greater one."

They buried her with his old yellow covered, tattered and worn copy of Speak, Memory. And there, standing in the rain as the grave diggers threw dirt on her coffin, he adjusted the large umbrella over a quiet and solemn Stiles and whispered the words.

"See you soon my strange joy, my tender night"

It had taken a village to pull him out of the shadows he'd sunk headfirst into after the loss. A village consisting of Stiles, Scott, Melissa and for a time, Claudia's mothers. His own parents had long ago written him off, their cold disdain of his true calling as a law man driving a stone wedge between them that just seemed to widen with time.

Eventually, he'd pulled his head out of his ass to realize that even in losing his Claudia, he had not lost all of her. A small bit of her sunshine lived in their son, a legacy of love, magic and an inner strength that seemed to shine from Stiles, chasing away the shadows still trying to cling to Janek's soul. It was then and there that he swore that he would do anything to be there for his son, his joy, his beautiful baby boy.

It hadn't been easy of course. Stiles' big selfless heart and dynamic intelligence took turns breaking his father's heart and driving his father insane. Many a night Janek would sit with Melissa and cry frustrated tears in to his ONE beer (that was all that was allowed after his previous flirtation with alcoholism) while Stiles and Scott had a sleepover upstairs. Janek read countless child care books, most of which he threw out in a fit of pique because they were mostly useless for dealing with someone like Stiles.

He learned breathing techniques and studied the art of negotiation because he could never get his son to just 'do as he was told' without some sort of compromise. He learned to pick his battles and let the small things slide in order to get the bigger lessons to stick. It was hard work but it was worth it to see Claudia's whiskey eyes light up his son's face like the bright and shining star she'd once been.

And he was proud of the man his baby boy had become. Dam proud. He'd poured as much as he could of himself into the boy so that Stiles would have everything he needed to make his own way in the world. His son had chosen to walk the path of a lawman, just like his father and if that made Janek smile smugly into his weekly beer then that's wasn't anyone else's business.

He'd seen his son weather some major blows by destiny's hand and had held him and cried with him as his heart had been broken and his spirit crushed. He'd feared for his boy, feared that he wouldn't get back up from whatever tried to knock him down. And yet his fears had always been put to rest though because Stiles had always gotten back up. Would always get back up. That was Claudia through and through.

Not this time though. This time, it was different. So different.

Janek could honestly say that he'd never been that terrified in his life. Hearing his one and only child screaming for him in the dead of night and not being able to go to him because of his own weakened body, he'd despaired in those agonizing moments before Jim had found him clawing his way across the floor and had scooped him up, both of them stumbling up the stairs and into a nightmare.

In all his years as a lawman, Janek had never seen so much blood. His baby boy had been sitting in the middle of the dripping gore, his skin almost bone white as blood gurgled from his lips, over his chin and down his bare chest. Those whiskey coloured eyes had been blown wide with terror as his hands clutched weakly in Janek's direction.

It had broken something inside of him at the sight and nothing else mattered but gathering his son into his arms and protecting him from the world. Not his own injuries, not Derek's mournful whimpers, not whatever drama that was going on in the room outside of the circle of his arms around his son. The world could have razed to the ground around them just then and Janek would not have cared.

Not when his baby boy called for him. Not when his son needed him.

It had taken what seemed like hours to calm his son and longer than that to calm his own racing heart and watching Stiles walk around the following morning, trying to be his old gregarious self and just falling short made Janek want to bundle his boy up into the fluffiest blankets and keep him safe from the world.

But he didn't. Instead he let himself be bundled back off to his recovery room as the newly arrived Sheila tsked and fussed over his re-opened wounds and administered much needed pain killers. He struggled against Morpheus' embrace, wanting to be awake and aware if his son needed him but Derek had finally been able to lay his mind to rest, safe in the knowledge that his son's pack would be there for Stiles where he couldn't.

When he woke again, it was to find Stiles tucked up against him on the bed, a bit of colour returning to pale cheeks. Dark eyelashes fluttered open to reveal those whiskey coloured eyes Janek cherishes so much. A sob caught in his parched throat and that had his son scrambling up to fetch his a glass of water and with a bendy straw.

After fumbling a few sips, Janek held out his arms, fat tears rolling down his cheeks "Słoneczko"

A tearful Stiles tumbles into his arms, careful of his father's injuries, until he is tucked up against Janek just as he'd been that very morning. He tucks his face into Janek's neck, his soft hiccup sobs muffled as he trembles.

"Tak się bałam, Tata." Stiles sniffles softly, "… so very scared."

Janek runs soothing fingers through his sons hair as he hugs his boy close.

" I love you so much Gwiazdeczko. You are so strong, just like your mother. I am so proud of you, Serce. My north Star. So dam proud."

It's a few minutes before Stiles starts pulling away and it's all Janek can do to let him go. He knows that his son has work to do. Evil to face. And though Janek wants more than to fight his son's battles for him, he knows cannot, not only because his own bodies weakness betrays him but because to do so would be a great disservice to the man his son had become.

He would do what he could though, stay safe and heal. Allow his body to mend so that if called upon for his advice, or experience, his mind would be sharp enough to help. He also did not want his son to be worrying about his father when he seemed to have some many enemies at his door. He would not make himself a distraction.

He had the utmost faith in Stiles' pack. Faith that they would stand with him and protect him when Janek couldn't. Even Derek, who he'd still had reservations about, had gained Janek's trust by how he'd been able to pull Stiles out of his downward spiral of guilt that very morning.

He'd once told the wolf at the hospital that Stilinski men forgave, but didn't forget and that still held true. Though, he still burned at the pain his son had gone through at the hands of the Hale Alpha and the Druid, some of the blame landing on Derek's careless words; Janek found the ice around his heart cracking a good bit when it came to the Beta wolf.

Stiles let out a heavy sigh, sitting back on the edge of the bed and wiping tear tracks from his still too pale cheeks. He looked so fragile and young that Janek had to reach out and place a hand on his son's cold cheek. Stiles covered his hand with his own and leaned into the warmth, giving the prone man a soft smile.

"I have to go Tata. I'll be alright." Whiskey eyes shone bright and strong and Janek knew that his son spoke the truth.

"Yes…I know you will be. " Janek nodded, relaxing back into the bedding as his son took his father's hand in both of his own and kissed the knuckles softly.

God he was so much like his mother. So strong, shining so fucking bright in the darkness. His baby boy. His warrior mage. Janek felt the sting of tears once again and blinked them back fiercely as he gave his son a smile.

"Now go show those fuckers what happens when you try to mess with the Stilinskis."

Stiles smile is a sharp and deadly as his father's.

"You got it Daddy-o."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Polish to English
> 
> Słoneczko - Sunshine  
> Tak się bałam, Tata - I was so scared Daddy  
> Gwiazdeczko - Star  
> Serce - Heart


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooooo.... i have an inkling that it may have been a loooong time since i've updated You Gotta.... it's not for lack of trying but i've been on an avengers kick for a while and to be honest i was kind of stuck on where to go from here. i have it plotted out but plotting and writing are two very different things. 
> 
> i realized that with all that has been going on, Derek has to be going through a lot. i always got the impression that Derek was very sheltered and if kate hadn't killed his family, he'd be a bit of a mama's boy. Derek is very sensitive and all the trauma he went through on teen wolf made him basically a functioning emotional mute. Pack is everything to him and even thought he's been keeping it together pretty well, he's not okay.

For all his talk of being adults and skipping the melodrama, Derek wanted nothing more than to curl up in a dark corner with his nose under his tail until the world was made right again. In fact, as he coordinated with Jim to get Erica and Boyd to swing by the house before their shift for a briefing, ushered Stiles into his father's room for some Father-Son comfort and spoke with John Rahway about the upcoming arbitration; he'd been quietly and calmly freaking the fuck out.

Every time he closed his eyes he could see the blood spilling from his mate, hear Stiles screams echoing in his ears. He could taste Alpha blood at the back of his throat every time he swallowed, making him gag more often than not. He could not get his mate's empty stare out of his mind, burning red as he sunk his claws into Derek's chest. It was like the alpha had not recognized him at all, had not even seen him. And out of all of the crazy fucked up shit that had happened in the last 24 hours, that was what had terrified Derek the most.

He felt lost, scared and angry. He wanted to just run and run until he exhausted all of the nervous energy that was churning inside him. His wolf was snarling and whining in turns, seeking to rip, to shred, to bite at the enemy and at the same time shying away from an unknown so powerful that they could drive a strong Alpha and Mage like Stiles out of his own mind.

It was usually at this time that Derek would fall back to his pack to lick his wounds and bury himself under a puppy pile of wolfkin, seeking their comfort and protection. Frankly, Derek admitted to himself, for all that he had gone through in his life with Kate Argent and the Soul Bond severance, with being the Sheriff of Beacon Hills and the trials he'd faced since taking up that position; he'd been greatly sheltered throughout his life by his pack.

From the day he was born, he'd understood and accepted that pack was all. Pack was everything. Pack was life. His mother was his Alpha and protector. His father was his nurturer and comfort. His siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, they were wolfkin. They were the howl. They were running and hunting and grooming and playing. They were woven into his very being and they were always there for him, in one incarnation or another. They were home, heart and hearth.

Being away from them was like having a warm and heavy blanket stripped away, leaving him cold and exposed. His mother's betrayal felt like the sting of a whip on his naked flesh. To know that Laura knew and condoned such behaviour scraped along his skin like a dull and rusted knife. That they would try to cut something so precious and rare from him without his knowledge, lying to his face all these years when he came to them, crying and broken and guilty. How they comforted him with the same hands that had been used to break him.

It burned something in his chest to love them still, but love them he did. It hurt that he couldn't separate his feelings. That the love for his family, the anger at his alpha, the guilt that his mate had to suffer because of him and the fear that everything would slip through his fingers in the end and he would be alone.

Omega.

The very thought made him shudder in repulsion. For all the stories Peter told when he was young about rebel omegas, lone wolves who went on adventures and dodged the cruel and stupid hunters, Derek all too well remembered the lessons their father taught about what it truly meant to be omega. The solitude. The all engulfing maw of loneliness that a wolf without pack, without kin, would have to endure had terrified Derek more than darkness, madness or the cruelty of hunters combined.

Where others would feel smothered and coddled, Derek had felt safe and supported, even with his nosy pack mates listening and sniffing at his every action and hormonal impulse, even with the terrible teasing and needling he endured from his siblings, even the barely concealed interrogations and constant tabs being kept on him by his parents; he'd bourne it all because that was how pack showed their love. Pack cared about their members. Omegas had nobody to care for them.

He is pulled out of his thoughts by the arrival of his deputies.

Erica is not two steps over the threshold before she's claws out and growling. Boyd stiffens behind her, eyes flashing gold before taking a deep breath.

"I smell Hale blood." he says.

It's not so much of a question than a threat that things could and would go sideways if explanations were not forthcoming asap.

This would be the first time that the two packs would be getting together for something other than work and even though he'd wanted this to happen under better circumstances, like a backyard barbeque or something, he would work with the hand he was dealt.

If Stiles and Jim were right and Reyes and Boyd did plan to follow Derek from the Hale Pack, he wanted to ensure that they would be as welcome as he felt. He also wanted to brief them on recent happenings away from the station with all its eyes and ears.

The blonde wolf steps right into his space with a soft snarl, sniffing his neck and rubbing her cheek softly against his in an offer of comfort. Boyd stepped up to his side, one large hand gently rubbing circles into Derek's back, his other hand on Derek's forearm, drawing his pain through touch, the black veins appearing in stark contrast against his skin. Derek sags against their solid support for a moment, letting out a soft whine and a shiver. Erica's arms tighten around him just enough not to aggravate his wounds.

"Mate or not, if he hurt you on purpose I'll have his guts for garters." she hisses against his neck. "Alpha or not, I'll rip him stem to stern. "

Derek can't help but smile at the fierce love and loyalty that he feels through the pack bond, leaning his head against her neatly combed blonde hair. She smells of cordite and lipstick and a bit like churros, no doubt obtained from Beacon Hill's best food truck.

Before he could pout at her, she holds up a brown paper bag that smells like heaven. She turns to the crowd in the living room with a fierce scowl.

"So…" she raises her sharply penciled eyebrow "Which bastard's eyes do I have to scratch out for putting the hurt on Derek?"

Stiles eyes flash red from where he is sitting at one corner of the couch, his laptop in his lap and a cup of hot chocolate at his elbow. His face is solemn as the grave.

"That would be me."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Derek spends most of the briefing perched on the arm of sofa, Stiles' cup of chocolate clasped in his hands. It's more for the warmth of the hot liquid than for the drink itself even though Coz makes a wicked cuppa. It goes well with the churros and so everyone is happy. That is, after all the explanations are made and the two packs settled into each other's presence.

Erica's eyes are wide and a bit scared after the whole story comes out, even Boyd has a look on his face of a man disturbed. Derek takes the time to observe their little rag tag group, they are all scared, he can tell; but they are also all determined to face whatever this evil was and put a stop to it. It is the same clash of emotions that churns in his chest. It is joined by a sharp and bittersweet mix of love and sorrow whenever he looks down at his mate.

Stiles neck and face are still too pale, his moles standing out like spots of ink across parchment. Derek knows that his lover's skin is still chilled, despite the thick sweater he's wearing and so much body heat in the room. He can still see the minute trembling in those beautiful hands, the way that certain words trip on Stiles' tongue. He's tired. They all are.

But at the same time there is a nervous energy to the room, an impatience to just get out there are do something. Derek's wolf is walking endless circles in his head, growling deep in its chest. It wants to seek, it wants to hunt and kill. It wants to sink it's claws and teeth into the enemy and dip its snout in the warm blood.

Stiles slaps his thigh, making him jump and look up. Stiles catches his eye. "You were growling."

Derek flushes, looking around the room before ducking his head. "Sorry."

Stiles squeezes his thigh with a soft smile. "We're done here for now. Walk with me?"

At Derek's furrowed brow, he clarified. "Just out to the garden. Please?"

They make it out to the bare patch of earth that stiles had been taking his frustration out on the evening before. It seemed like an eternity ago that he and Jim and double teamed the alpha and romped in the overgrown grass. He'd been so happy then, so content. So close to what pack felt like that his heart had swelled within his chest.

The sun had been setting, painting the yard in brilliant colours. Stiles laughter had been carefree and happy, Jim had been a warm and solid presence. Their smells had been mingled together in that way only pack used to. Both Derek and his wolf had been at peace, if only for a little while.

Now the little dirt patch seemed barren and lifeless, the strewn grass and roots like the aftermath of some brutal massacre. Derek can't seem to pull his eyes away, blinking only when Stiles cups his face and guides his face towards his.

"Hey" Stiles kisses him softly, "Come back to me."

His hand are cold against Derek's heated skin and he covers the pale hands with his own, leaning down to claim another kiss. He can taste chocolate and Stiles and alpha blood and Derek yanks away, stumbling back and trying not to gag. He braces his hands against his knees and tried not to revisit his churros. There is a cool hand on the back of his neck and one on his chest.

"I'm sorry." he whimpers, "I'm sorry" he can't seem to find any other words.

Stiles gently pulls him upright and into a hug. "What can I do? What do you need?" His voice wobbles a little as his arms tighten around Derek's broad shoulders. "I don't know what to do for you."

Derek squeezes his eyes shut against the sting of tears. He wants to be strong for Stiles, to be strong for his mate. He knows that Stiles won't judge him or begrudge him comfort. None of the pack will. He knows in his heart of hearts that they will be there to catch him should he fall. He knows all of this in his mind. He can even truly believe it to a point.

But for all that they are becoming like family to him they are not Pack. Not just yet. He gives a full body shudder and clings to his love. A low whine escapes his lips before he can bite down on it and Stiles makes a wounded noise.

"Anything" the alpha whispers, "Anything you need."

Derek clamps down on the words in his throat, torn between need and some sort of self-perceived disloyalty. He knows what his heart wants, what his wolf needs, what it's howling for but he's afraid to let it out. To let it drop like some atom bomb that he can't take back. He can feel his mate's hot breath at his temple, soft kisses and whispered pleas.

"I…" Derek almost sobs. "I…"

"Anything in heaven or on earth" Stiles swears.

Derek shakes his head, trying to shake the cobwebs loose. The words unspoken pressing on his chest like a stone.

"My…. " Fearful electric blue eyes meet blazing red ones, "My father…. I need…. I… Stiles."

"Okay. Okay." Stiles exhales, nodding even as he is digging into his pocket for his phone.

He has it unlocked and is scrolling through the contacts within seconds. Derek can only stare as Stiles pulls up his father's personal cell phone number from a sub-section of numbers and other details marked Hale Pack. He sees his mother's unlisted cell under 'CuntRazor' and has to choke back a hysterical laugh.

Stiles hands him the ringing phone with soft encouraging smile that Derek can't help but return. He takes a deep breath as the line picks up.

"Hale."

"…..dad?"

"Derek?"

"Dad…I…"

"Derek? What's wrong son? Talk to me."

"Dad…I can't…"

"Tell me where you are"

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Ashford Hale's blue pickup truck screeched to a halt a few feet away, sending the gravel of the dirt road, half a mile from the house, flying; thankfully away from where Derek stood leaning against his cruiser. He pulled his sheriff's jacket closer around himself, chilled despite the warm sunny day. He grimaced as his still healing wounds shifted and stood from his slouch as his father exited the vehicle.

Part of him regretted calling his dad, the betrayal of what his mother had done to his soul bond still had him reeling; and in some way he knew that his father must have at least known what had been done and had at least agreed in keeping it a secret all these years. Another part of him craved the comfort of family, something he'd never really been without growing up. As much as they'd hurt him and his mate, he still loved his family and always would, even his mother.

Without a word, Ashford got out of the car, walked up to his son and pulled the younger man gently into his arms. He asked no questions, spoke nothing of the hurt and pain and blood he could smell on his youngest son and cub. Cupping Derek's head against his shoulder, he silently drew on his son's pain, the tell-tale black lines blossoming on Derek's neck.

He didn't say a word as Derek's arms came up to clutch at his thick plaid shirt, the slow trembling of his body slowly becoming shudders that soon turned into sobbing, his face buried in his father's neck.

Ashford started to rumble in his chest, the way he used to when Derek was a baby and would only go to sleep to the soft purr of his father's wolf, listening for his heartbeat as he lay across Ashford's chest. He began to rock slowly, running his hands up and down Derek's back as his son wept and trembled against him, soaking the warm and scratchy collar of his plaid shirt with tears.

When Derek finally pulls back, Ashford offers him a crumpled handkerchief to wipe his eyes and nose, once again saying nothing when the hanky gets pocketed instead of returned. He leans against the cruiser, touching shoulders with his son and listening to the sounds of the forest around them. He's learned over the years that Derek won't be rushed. That he will talk when he's ready. Try to push him in any way and he'd snap shut tighter than a clam. Talia was the same damn way.

It takes a while but Ashford is no stranger to patience and eventually it all comes tumbling out it stilted words and painful whimpers. It takes all of his will and strength of heart not to wolf out right there are rip whatever was threatening his cub to shreds but all he does is pull his son against his chest and purr like he did when Derek was a babe.

A rustle to his right alerts him and he turns, looking into the trees. A large golden jackal steps out of the foliage, red eyes blazing for a second before it disappears into the wood. Ashford nods, knowing that the animal is still there even if he can't see or sense it and rubs a soothing hand down his son's back.

It's all a father can do. He can't take Derek's pain, not where it mattered; and he couldn't make his son's mistakes for him, couldn't live his life for him. All he could do was hold him when he needed, be there for him when he fell. Derek was pack. He was wolfkin. And as far as Ashton was concerned, he always would be.

No matter what the pack said, no matter what his Alpha said, Derek was his son and that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a lot of father-son themes popping up. after my own dad passed i've been more aware of the relationships of that kind in fiction and in teen wolf especially. both in the show and in this story. i hope i did them justice.
> 
> after this, the plot thickens.... again. MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHA


	15. Chapter 15

"Is everything here named after the town?" Coz drawled as they pulled up to the Beacon Hills Trailer Park in the rented sedan.

Stiles chuckled as he unbuckled his seat belt. "Our founding fathers were not an imaginative bunch. What with Beacon Hills High School, Beacon Hill Shopping Centre. Beacon Hills Bowling and even Beacon Hills Brewery, one of the oldest business in the county and home of our famous home brew, the Beacon Hill House Ale."

"Charming." Coz rolled his eyes and stepped out of the car, straightening his jacket as he took in the scene before him.

The trailer park was one of the nicer ones he'd seen, free of garbage and debris. Green grass and flowers kept relatively neat around the trailers, which were scrubbed clean, if not brightly painted. There was a sense of community in the overall look of the place. There were a few derelict cars here and there, covered by tarps and more than a few dogs roved the edges of the park in packs.

Brightly coloured clothes hung from numerous clothes lines, fluttering in the bright sunlight of mid-morning and someone was playing country music on a radio somewhere. There was a slight breeze, enough to alleviate the heat that was starting to settle on the day. Four trailers into the lane was one surrounded by police cruisers and the Coroner's van. Deputies milled around the outside, watching as the coroner went in and out of the small residence.

The trailer was as clean as any other with white curtains embroidered with pale pink flowers. Small pink flamingoes dotted the small flower trough and a small bike and a bucket full of toys sat near the propane tank near the rear of the trailer.

A haggard older woman, with craggy skin and frown lines mapping her face, sat in a faded plastic lawn chair, dressed in a pair of worn jeans, a puffy maroon jacket over a white button up shirt and neon orange crocs. She was smoking a cigarette and staring off into space with lost expression. There was a man slumped in the back seat of one of the cruisers, weeping silently as he clutched a small baseball cap in his hands.

Coz steps over to talk to Reyes as Stiles and Jim head over to Sorel. Reyes is wearing one of the coroner's overalls, gloved hands clutching the crime scene camera.

"I'm sick of this asshole killing kids." the werewolf growls. Coz nods in grim agreement. He looks over at where Derek and Stiles were having a pow wow with Doctor Sorel, pulling on gloves and booties and stepping into the trailer. Coz satisfies himself with looking at the pictures Reyes has taken, stomach turning at yet another child's room soaked red with blood.

Frankly, he's seen enough of the stuff to last a lifetime. The events of this morning hammering that sentiment home. Though he hadn't been there for the actual event, seeing the aftermath had shaken him to his core. Not to mention clearing out Stiles childhood room, almost every surface drenched in sticky blood, the smell cloying to the nose and had him tasting pennies at the back of his throat for what seemed like ages.

Clem waves him over and they head over to where the old woman is sitting. Boyd was already with the father, patiently drawing out his account of happenings in between crying jags and non-responsive episodes. The EMT had already looked the man over and deemed him physically fit. Psychologically though, Coz had his serious doubts.

Clem pulled up another lawn chair next to the old woman and Coz, standing chair less, squatted so as to not loom over the witness. The woman was the boy's grandmother, Gloria Weinstein, non-practicing jewish, mother of Malcom. She lived five trailers down from her son and grandson Harvey, and had helped them get their own place after moving to Beacon Hills from Los Angeles.

"The mother left. The whore." the old woman's voice was scratchy from heavy smoking. She sneered around the stub hanging from her lips. Deft hands filched a half empty pack out of her jacket pocket and she lit up another, flicking the old one into a small bucket near the chair. "Skipped out on my boy as soon as the baby was out of her belly. Said he was a no good loser and that she could do better. She was part right, he was a no good loser but that little tart was just as no good."

She blew out a ring of smoke, never taking her eyes off the distant tree tops. "Came crawling on his belly to his mother he did, child in tow. I got him set in a trailer, got him a job at the Cineplex. Nothing big but then again my boy wasn't destined for anything big. Happy as a pig in shit he is with his small job and his trailer. All he needed was his b… boy."

She stumbles over the last word, her eyes becoming moist. She sneers to herself, her think lips pulling back to reveal stained teeth. "Him and that kid. Two peas in a pod. I tried to do right by them, raise 'em proper. Tried to make sure that boy didn't grow up sassin' his elders. That he knew how to do right. Tried to raise him up a good boy, like his father."

She tips a long graft of ash off the cigarette into the bucket and takes a long and unsteady drag.

"Now ol' Tommy's come and taken him. That boy. That good little boy."

Coz shares a concerned look with Clem, who sits forward in her seat.

"You said that Tommy came and took your grandson. Who is Tommy?"

"Tommy comes for the bad ones." the old woman slumps in on herself, cigarette forgotten in her hand. "… he must have done something bad for Tommy to come. He only comes for the bad ones. I keep telling Malcom to stop coddling the boy… he's gone and spoiled him rotten and Tommy's done come and snatched him up."

Clem presses on gently, "Is this Tommy someone from the neighbourhood? Can you describe him to us Ms. Weinstein?"

They woman's eyes sharpen and she pierces them with a col glare. "He comes in the night. He comes in the dark and in the silence. He takes the bad ones and he eats them right up 'till all that's left is bones."

Coz feels cold in the midday heat, a shiver travelling down his spine. Clem tries to press for more but the old woman just looks into the tree tops and doesn't speak again.

The arrival of a federal black SUV distracts them all. It's McCall and Pryce. Coz can see Clem tensing at his side but convinces her to have a look around of the outside of the  trailer and let Stiles and Derek deal with the federal assholes. Coz may be a patient man but after seeing his soul mate so upset and afraid at McCall's machinations, he may just break the man's jaw as look at him.

He may just do the same to Pryce after what Clem had confessed but he knew that Clementine could fight her own battles just as John could fight his. It had taken him a long time to realize that. After dealing with his drug addict sister Naomi for so many years, he'd automatically placed himself in the role of protector and care giver. It was only through John and being part of Stiles pack that all of the internalized guilt he'd been carrying around had finally started being chipped away.

They make a turn around the house, looking for tracks and clues. They have a good idea that the unsub is of the supernatural variety but they'd learned over the years that even supernatural oogedy-boogedies left behind physical trace evidence. One just had to be extra vigilant. It had taken Stiles a good few tries to pound that into their skulls and a few cases had almost been lost because they'd overlooked the more simple and basic rules of investigation.

Now Coz always looked down… and up. But that was a different set of circumstances altogether.

Looking through the window to the boy's room was as upsetting as he'd imagined it would be but he was soon pulled out of his melancholy by Clem who was pointing to some scratch marks near one of the vents.

"Animal?" he ventured, "Raccoon maybe."

Clem frowned, placing her fingertips just above the shallow gouges. "Too big. We should have Reyes take a photo. In fact…" she pulls out her phone and takes a few photos right there and then. She will still get Reyes to take the shots though.

By the time they get around to the other side, McCall and Pryce have left with the Coroner and Reyes. Boyd had left to escort the Distraught father to the hospital and the other deupties were taping off the scene.

"What have you got?" Stiles asks, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket. He has on gloves and that jacket is thick yet he still looks cold in the midday sun. Coz wants nothing more than to bundle him up on the couch and feed him tacos and hot chocolate until he was back to his old self.

"Some scratch marks on a vent near the boy's room and something strange the old woman said."

Stiles frowns, his whiskey brown eyes sharp. "yeah?"

Clem nods, glancing at the old woman who was being escorted home by a uniformed officer,

"She said that Old Tommy had come for him."

Coz adds, "He comes in the dark and the silence. That he only comes for the bad ones."

"He snatches them and eats them all up until there's nothing left but bones." Clem finishes.

An ominous silence falls heavy as Stiles swallows hard, his face blanching even paler. He closes his eyes and squeezes Derek's hand with his when the wolf takes it. Taking a deep breath, the alpha opens his eyes and looks at them all.

"It looked just how it did in my dream. Down to the snag in the quilt the grandma made. It was the room I saw last night before I woke up to the blood."

As stiles trailed off, Jim took up talking. "The father, Malcom, heard the first screams and tried to get to his son but the door was locked. It took a look at the door, there was no locking mechanism so something must have barricaded the door. He eventually broke the thing and got in.

That where it gets hazy for him. One moment he he's saying that he didn't see anything but one of the first responders said that he was screaming about his son being up in the air. How he couldn't reach him because he was too high up."

Clem frowned. "The trailer is less than eight feet high. Malcom is 6 foot 4. he could easily have jumped and touched the ceiling."

"Anyone else hear the boy screaming?" Coz interjected. Jim shook his head to a negative.

"All they heard was the father screaming. Several people claimed that he was calling his son's name. another came and said that when he finally ran out of the house and collapsed in the yard, he was saying the child's prayer over and over until the paramedics came."

"The child's prayer?" Coz furrows his brow. Clem nods.

"Now I Lay me down to sleep, I pray thee Lord my soul to keep."

"If I should die before I wake… " Stiles continues softly. "I pray thee Lord my soul to take."

Derek puts an arm around Stiles' shoulder and finishes.

"If I should live for other days, I pray thee Lord to guide my ways."

"Amen." Jim shakes his head with a heavy exhale. "Jesus."

"Alright." Stiles straightens up, Derek's arms falling from his shoulders as they all perk up. "We need to run with this. Coz? You and Clem get down to the morgue and see what Sorel has come up with. And check in with Pryce. You know him best. You may be able to get something out of him that we wouldn't be able to. That will also mean dealing with McCAll. Can you two handle that?"

Coz straightens up while Clem nods slowly under Stiles' intense gaze. Their Boss was trusting them to handle themselves. Their Alpha was calling on them to get the job done. He wasn't going to let him down.

"Sure thing boss."

Stiles looks at them for a second and then nods as if satisfied. He turns to Jim.

"I need you to look into Malcom Weinstein's life. Go visit him in the hospital while you are at it. See if you can get anything else from him, about that night. About his son in general. We need to know if there is any kind of link between the victims or if it is as random as we are being led to believe."

To Derek he says,

"We need a listing of every child within the age groups living in Beacon Hills. This is the third murder. People are going to be worried. I would like a uniform to check in or call everyone with a child within the age group individually. Call in for re-enforcements from other counties if you need to. I can call in some Federal assets if needed. We need to show the public that we are doing everything that we can to protect their children. Boys take priority because of the victimology so far but we should include girls of the same age. There is no guarantee that the unsub won't jump genders in the future."

Derek nods, taking notes on his notepad. "What will you be doing? Will you need back up?"

Stiles shakes his head. "I'll be staying at the station. I have some calls to make and some research to do."

He pulls out a his cellphone and opens of his camera gallery. There are pictures of the room, tinted different colour as if taken by different filter. As he flips through them, they can see faint gold markings overlapping the room.

"Because we got here fast enough, I was able to take some shots of the magic left behind before it degraded. Some of it looks familiar but I'm going to have to research the shit out of the rest. If I can get this figured out, we may have a better chance at finding out the user and figure out who is behind all of this fuckery."

"Fuck yeah." Jim hissed, his eyes flashing gold. "Let's get this fucker and put him in the hurt locker but good."

Stiles eyes flash red in response and Coz feels goose bumps raise on his arms.

It was time for them to hunt.

\-------------------------------------------------------

 

Coz pulled the car up to the front of the Mobile Morgue, sharing a look with Clem.

"You ready?" he asked, switching off the engine. Clem makes a small face at the door of the tent.

"As ready as you are." she retorts and he chuckles mirthlessly.

The tent is cool after the heat of the sun and Dr. Sorel is in the front room with the examination table while Pryce is in the separate Lab to the back of the tent. McCall is sitting in the corner hear the door to the rear lab, feet up on a table as he flips through a tabloid magazine. They can see from Sorel's irritated face that he's probably been chatting her up and she gives them a relieved look as they enter.

"Agent Chausser. Agent Cozier. What brings you here? We haven't had chance to do much with the evidence we've collected so far."

Coz raises and hand and gives her a smile. "We're just checking in Doc. Just here to find out how things are going so far and maybe talk to Dr. Pryce."

He looks at McCall, "That is, if that's possible."

McCall screws up his face and is about to speak when Sorel cuts across him, waving the question off.

"Of course, of course you can see him. I won't see a case jeopardized because of shitty inter-agency co-operation. He's just back there running a few tests on the bone fragments we collected today. Similar to the ones from the first two crime scenes. Such a shame."

McCall's face gets uglier with every word she speaks but when she pins him with a sharp look, he sits back, looking as if he'd swallowed the word vomit he'd been about to spew. Coz lets Clem go ahead into the lab, staying with Sorel as she gave him a rundown of what they knew so far, promising to cc him the email she sent the Sheriff's office. Several times McCall tried to inject himself into the conversation but Sorel deftly cut him off at the knees.

Coz was grateful that he had his head turned away because the FBI Douchebag was sure to see him fighting off a grin. Turns out that Doc Sorel was going to be one of his new favourite people. He couldn't wait for John to meet her.

Meanwhile, inside the lab Clem was keeping her breathing steady as Johann Pryce puttered around the lab. As much as the good Doctor Pryce could 'putter'. He looked the same as he did when she'd first met him. At his labs at Hemlock Grove. God she wished that she'd never set foot in that God forsaken town.

That none of the horrors she'd witnessed had been visited upon her .

Then again, despite the nth circle of hell she'd walked through, often dragged through; she would be hard pressed to find herself in a better place, with better people, than she was now.

"I see that you have finally found a place to belong." Pryce smirks at her over his lab-coat clad shoulder.

He is in shirt sleeves underneath, his suit jacket hung on a hanger hear the door. The suit looked off the rack, ill fitting. It seems that the FBI wasn't willing to keep their prisoner in the lifestyle he'd previously enjoyed. That made her happy.

"Are you still trying to pretend to read my mind Pryce?" she asked smugly, "I'm not from Beacon Hills."

The doctor chuckled, glancing at her once again. The smirk fell off her face.

"I'm not talking about this town, Hybrid." he smiled coldly, "I'm talking about that little team of yours. Agent McCall had quite a lot to say on the ride down here. He is very informative once you get him all stirred up. He is such an interesting specimen."

"I wouldn't let McCall hear that if I were you. He may not appreciate being called akin to a lab rat." she scowled, "… but then again that is how you see every living creature is it?"

Pryce shrugged elegantly and placed another slide under the microscope. "If that is what you want to believe of me my dear Doctor Chausser, I cannot hope to dissuade you."

Clementine bristled at his words. "What would you have me believe then? That you can actually care about another living being and don't just see us all as rats in a cage? That I am alive today because you cared about my well-being in some way?"

Pryce gives her a disappointed look. "Don't be naïve Doctor Chausser. You survived your attack because my experiment succeeded. Success or failure, it mattered not; I would have still learned valuable information from treating you. The preservation of your life, no matter the form it took, was a side effect of what was done to you, not the goal."

He carefully exchanges the slides under the microscope and continues to speak in the soft calm voice of his.

"And besides…" he turns his head to look at her, "… are we not ALL rats in the cage of life?"

Clem scoffs, "Don't get philosophical with me Pryce. I heard enough of the tripe when you had me strapped to a cold metal table. What you did to me was illegal and unethical."

"And yet here you are, all the better for it." he rejoinders. "Science gave you another chance at life when your God sought to let it slip away. What you are now is a culmination of your own struggles. You could have let yourself die after I was done with you. You could have gone to your precious holy order and have them kill your mortal body and sanctify your immortal soul. No one made you get up day after day and face the world. That was all you. No one else. "

"Science did not give you the life you have now. " He smiles that lizard smile she despises so much. "You built it yourself."

Her face flushing hot and cold, Clem grinds out an order for Pryce to forward his findings to the Sheriff's station and storms out, startling the others outside and she strode out of the tent and into the warmth of the sunny day outside. She rubs her arms to get warm, holding back a flinch when Coz rests and gentle hand on her shoulder.

"We cool?" he asks nonchalantly, looking elsewhere as she gets herself under control.

She still hates Pryce with a passion, flames that could never be truly quenched. On the other hand, the blinding rage she feels at the pain she'd endured at his hands, at the hands of umpyres of Hemlock Grove. The rage that burned hot and heavy like a stone against her ribs for so long. The rage that robber her reason and sleep and peace. That rage was tempered now, not as pressing, not as blinding.

She could think clearer now. She no longer wanted to claw off his face and rip out his throat. Oh she still wanted him dead and dissected on his own lab table but at least she could keep her senses around him now. He'd laid some awful honest truths at her feet as he usually did with his unruffled and superior tone and while she resented the way he could do that so skillfully, she could finally listen to things that she'd been trying to tell herself for far too long.

Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, she turned to Coz and nodded.

"Yes, We're cool."


End file.
